


Her Dark Servant

by CharlotteAshmore



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU-Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dagger Enslavement, Dark One Snark, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Happily Ever After, Mild Dub/Con content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-06 18:42:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 83,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16393079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlotteAshmore/pseuds/CharlotteAshmore
Summary: The Dark One, enslaved by the Beaumont family for decades, is taken aback after he’s sent by Maurice to rescue his daughter from yet another kidnapping attempt. He never expected she’d want him for herself or realize just how different she was from the rest of her family. But could he ever willingly become her dark servant?





	1. COMPLICATIONS

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. This is a work of pure fiction. All characters and events depicted in this story are entirely fictitious. Any similarity to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
> 
> A/n: Another re-posting, dearies. This was a fun one to re-edit. I hope you enjoy!

 

 

          "How could this have happened, Hugh? She was to have an armed escort home," the king bellowed angrily, his voice carrying throughout the cavernous war room to bounce along the walls and high vaulted ceiling. "You were responsible for her safety," he accused.

          Sir Hugh Beaumont bowed to his brother, his king, in deference, his failure to protect his niece weighing heavily upon his broad shoulders. His niece, his brother's only child, Belle. It wasn't her fault she had been caught in the middle of all this. Milhorn, the kingdom to the north, led by the ruthless King Edward, had struck out against all of Avonlea by taking their treasure, for the princess was indeed a treasure. She didn't deserve to be ripped away from her family because of something her father had done. For centuries, there had been peace between the kingdoms, friendship and prosperity shared. It wasn't until Edward had convinced himself Belle would suit him as his queen.

          King Edward had been enraged when Maurice had refused to even consider it. She was to finish her schooling that year, her eighteenth birthday to be celebrated upon her homecoming. She would not be forced to wed the aging king of Milhorn. Maurice had cut all ties to the kingdom of the north, including the profitable trade routes which would severely hurt the smitten king's domain. Barring all advice from his most trusted advisors, Maurice plowed ahead and did what he must to assure his daughter's safety and well-being. He believed her to be safe and secure at the posh boarding school and had awaited her return home to her family, her schooling done for good. He'd sent a carriage for the princess with an entire garrison of soldiers to escort her home. All should have gone smoothly, but Maurice had underestimated Edward's avarice and greed and an unwavering determination to have the girl.

          The escort had been easily overpowered and outmanned, the princess falling victim to the king from the north. She was now his prisoner, his unwilling bride. And if something wasn't done soon, there would be no escaping her fate. Desperate times called for even more desperate measures, no matter how much the king was opposed to using  _him._

          "Brother, you know it is the only way," Hugh said tightly, his voice low in the empty chamber. The very thought was making him perspire.

          "I swore I would never call upon him again. Let him continue to rot in the dungeon, the tricky bastard." Maurice swore again under his breath. "Belle doesn't even know the lengths I have gone to in order to protect our kingdom. If I send that monster to retrieve her …" His voice trailed away as a shudder wracked his aging body. "I don't want to expose her to his evil."

          "We no longer have a choice. Belle is your heir. One day, she will rule all of Avonlea. She will be forced to choose a consort to rule by her side. Do you really want that man to be Edward or someone equally vile? Because these are your only options," Hugh hissed, the harshness of his words making Maurice pale before him.

          The king knew he had no choice. He would not let his daughter be subject to such a cruel fate. Doomed to a loveless marriage to a tyrant king who would crush her beneath his boot and leave her a lifeless shell of her former self. No, he would not leave her to misery. "Bring me the chest."

          How had it come to this? How had he become desperate enough to call upon the beast once more, he thought as he watched his brother leave the room. Hugh was the only other living soul to know about the chest, an enchanted chest holding a mystical dagger. So many years had passed since their youth, so many years since they'd drunkenly stumbled upon the crumbling keep where the dagger had been hidden.

          If only they had known then of the trouble it would cause. This dagger was bound to the most powerful mage in the world, and in the entire realm. The Dark One, they called him. No other being they had ever heard of possessed such magic … and evil. And he was theirs to control, or rather, Maurice's. Hugh had wanted nothing to do with the imp, claiming he wasn't comfortable having power over one so evil. No, the burden fell to the king.

          He'd had a special cell built in the dungeon for his prisoner, bound with magic from the fairy who patronized their family. The only possible escape was if the Dark One was summoned to his master. The fairy had even placed a special enchantment on the dagger so no one other than Maurice's blood line would ever be able to wield its power over the imp. That left a precious few with such a privilege, including only Maurice, Hugh, and … Belle. Maurice prayed he would never have had to tell her that dark secret.

          Hugh returned, two of his most trusted knights following, the chest held tightly between them. They placed the chest at the king's feet and bowed, retreating silently and leaving the brothers alone with the mysterious chest. "Do you wish me to leave as well, brother?" Hugh asked solemnly, eyeing the chest as though it were a poisonous snake.

          Maurice stared at the old chest in disdain. The wood and braces looked as though they would fall apart at any moment, but he knew there was no stronger vessel in the known realms. The enchantment shimmered as he pressed his hand to the very center of the lid and spoke. " _patefacio."_  The lid of the chest swung open with a groan, revealing the mystical blade nestled on a bed of crimson velvet, sparkling ominously in the light of the torches.

          His hand hesitated over the handle, loathe to touch it, abhorring the idea he had no other choice than to align himself with the Dark One once more. The weight of the cold steel in his palm caused his stomach to roil painfully, but the image of his daughter in the hands of a vile tyrant strengthened his resolve. He held the dagger aloft and spoke, his voice ringing through the chamber.

          "O Dark One, your master summons thee."

 

*.*.*

 

          Rumpelstiltskin, the Dark One, the Evil Imp, the Trickster, the Dealmaker, sniffed the air, ignoring the familiar smells of his dungeon prison and smiled. A new aroma permeated the air, one of fear, of desperation. It had been so long since he had seen the night sky or felt the clean breeze wafting through the great trees of the Enchanted forest. But nothing could stir his senses, so long denied, as much as a desperate soul.

          And it was not just  _any_  desperate soul, oh, no. It was his master. His master who continued to let him sit, year after year, in a fetid cell to rot. What could have possibly happened to make the old bastard desperate enough to call upon the Dark One, he wondered idly. The king had called on him no more than four times in three decades, and each time, he had found a loophole to make the deal backfire on his master. The king would never make a deal with him and come out on top.

          Fools, all! No one would ever best him at his own game. Contracts were his specialty, after all. Pain seared through his brain in white hot streaks, his master's call burning into him painfully, the only thing which could free him from the wretched cell. His magic heeded the call, propelling him through space in a wisp of purple and black smoke to land him on bended knee in the king's odious presence. His coal black pupils ringed with the lightest amber, raised to meet the king's gaze, rage boiling in their depths.

 _"Master,_ " he hissed. "How may I be of service?" He wished he could cut his own tongue out rather than be forced to speak those words.

          Maurice left the mage on his knees out of spite. "I have need of you, slave."

          Rumpelstiltskin ground his teeth together in vexation, looking forward to the day when he would be free of the king's possession and he could take pleasure in gutting him. He would string his entrails from the palace gate as a warning to others the Dark One was no one's slave.

          "My daughter has been abducted by the King of Milhorn and I want her back … safely returned to me … without a scratch on her … unharmed." Maurice glanced at Hugh in askance. "Did I forget anything?" Hugh shook his head, certain the order couldn't be twisted.

 _Damn! No fun to be had from that quarter._  His mind whirled with possibilities of what he could have done to the little princess. All done to bring pain and suffering to the king. But Maurice, in his advancing age was becoming clever and had worded his request in such a way where he had no other choice but to obey. "What of the royal? Her abductors? What might you want me to do with them, dearie?" he asked, sarcasm dripping from his lips.

          "I have no care what you do with the king. Edward is slowly letting his mind slip into madness as is proven from this latest stunt. Do with him as you wish. His son, Prince Evan, can assume the throne and bring peace back to his kingdom. Just bring me my daughter with all haste," Maurice replied, his voice shaken as he dropped heavily upon his throne-like chair.

          Rumpelstiltskin smiled with pure satisfaction, reveling in the promise of violence to come and vanishing before Maurice could issue a retraction of his command.

 

*.*.*

 

          Belle tossed the broken wine bottle onto the stone floor and studied the man sprawled across the rug at her feet.  _Lech!_  "As if I would ever marry such a fiend," she sighed to the room at large. She'd been abducted from the road, dragged from her carriage and brought to Milhorn to learn another arrogant ass was trying to command her fate. She snorted and stepped on the unconscious king's fingers as she moved to the window to look below. No escape that way. She strode angrily to the door and pulled on the handle. Locked. "I wonder if I could possibly lift him and toss him from the tower window. Problem solved. Women everywhere across the kingdom would thank me."

          Frankly, she was tired of fending off the fiend's advances. She had been afforded every luxury in the tower room, including a lavish bed, silk hangings, plush furniture, and servants to bow and scrape to her every whim. She wanted no part of it, especially a marriage to the king. She wanted love and would settle for nothing less. Maybe she could find something with which to pick the lock, she thought hurriedly. She needed to do  _something_  before the lech woke and made another pass at her.

          Rumpelstiltskin clung to the shadows of the tower room, his gaze taking in the girl. He admired the way her gown of robin's egg blue clung to her curves. Curves in all the right places, he had to admit. Her eyes were full of icy blue fury, her hair the deep rich color of chestnuts, and her lips … gods! She was made to be kissed. He shook himself mentally. There was no way he was going to let himself feel an attraction for the lovely creature before him who was fighting rather valiantly to free herself from her gilded cage.

          He was taken aback by her remark about the king. He supposed he might be able to grant that wish for her and let her deal with the consequences. She was just another spoiled, vain, vapid little royal and beneath his consideration. And what was worse was the blood of his master ran in her veins. She was no better and was beneath his consideration.

          Belle startled as a new voice rang chillingly through the chamber. "My, my, you're a bloodthirsty little wench. Aren't you, pet?" he asked with a rather childish giggle.

          "Wh-Who are you?" she asked, cursing inwardly as her voice broke.

          In less than a second, he was at her side, looming over her threateningly, his eyes wide and gleaming with a hint of madness.  _Oh, pet, I could have so much fun with you._  His face was inches from hers, yet she didn't shrink with fear as so many others had in a similar predicament.  _No, this one has courage … and fire._  His lips thinned into a line as he stepped back and dropped into a bow.

          "Rumpelstiltskin, at your service … pet." He couldn't bring himself to use her title. She would have to earn that, he thought gleefully. No, he would call her  _pet,_  knowing it would stoke more of that fire he'd seen lurking beneath the surface.

          "Am I supposed to know who you are?" Belle asked, her mouth curving into a smirk, her brow raised.

          His eyes narrowed. "Surely, you jest."

          "Actually, no."

          He gave her a blank look. "You've never heard of the Dark One?"

          Belle felt the blood drain from her face. He was a myth, a legend to scare little children, the boogeyman to frighten and befuddle mere mortals. He couldn't be real. She fought to maintain an outward calm. She would not give this … _man …_  control over her. "Oh, him I've heard of." Her eyes raked him from head to toe in a rather insulting manner. "I would have thought you would be taller … bigger … to instill such fear in the masses."

          A low growl rumbled in his chest as his lip curled back over his teeth into a sneer. She simply smiled. Did she not realize the danger she was in? But then he remembered his master's command. He was suddenly wishing more than ever that he was free and could whisk the little moppet back to his home in the Dark Castle. He would give her a quick lesson in who he really was. She would gain a new appreciation for him then. He pushed his fanciful thoughts away and leered at her.

          "So, pet, what would you have me do with the king? Ah, yes…I believe you had expressed the desire to throw him from the tower window."

          His maniacal laughter trilled shrilly as Belle stood frozen to the stones, a mask of horror on her lovely features as she watched the king hover for a moment and then fly directly out the tower window to crash on the rocks below. She ran to the window to see what had become of him, but was caught up quickly in the sorcerer's arms before she could reach the opening.

          Her eyes were wide with fear as she struggled in his arms. "I didn't mean it," she cried, tears of frustration and remorse coursing down her face. "I didn't mean any harm. I was just angry." She slumped against him and buried her face in the stiff dragon-hide coat he wore.

          For a moment he stood stock-still, unsure how to take the girl. His brow furrowed in a frown as a new, unknown emotion caught him in its grip. She was so soft and pliant in his arms and he wanted to gather her closer to him.  _Great flaming fairies! What the hell is wrong with me?_  And she was clinging to him in desperation, blaming herself for the king's demise.  _Oh, this does not bode well. Fuck!_  He dropped her weeping form into the nearest chair and backed hurriedly away, smoothing the front of his coat with anxious hands.

          She looked down at the handkerchief he tossed onto her lap and then up to meet his gaze. "Are you completely insane? This little stunt is going to start a war with my kingdom, you ass!" she shrieked, turning angrily away from him and blowing her nose.

          His mouth gaped open before he could hide his surprise. "Tell me, dearie. Do you always blow hot and cold like this?"

          "What?"

          Rumpelstiltskin clasped his hands behind his back and circled around her, leaning close to inspect the treasure before him. There was no denying it, she was unique. He  _loved_  the strange and unusual. Finally, he decided to let her off the hook, and where that spurt of charity came from he hadn't a clue. "Your father ordered the assassination. You provided the means. It isn't your fault."

          Belle dried her tears and really looked at him for the first time since he'd stunned her with his sudden appearance. If he thought her unique, then it took one to know one. He was fascinating in every aspect of the word. His hair was a strange brown, wild and curly about his head, overgrown to his shoulders. He was dressed in clothes she knew no one of her acquaintance would dare wear about in public, all leather and dragon-hide in muted tones of black and reddish brown. His mouth was wide, his lips thin, his nose had a subtle hook to it, but it was his eyes which drew her, and she found herself wondering if they would change color according to his mood. She reached up to touch his face, his strange greenish-gray skin sparkling in the light of the window. He had a golden hue which was positively alluring, and she liked what she saw. His hand, tipped with blackened nails gripped her hand before she could touch him.

          "What do you think you're doing, pet?" he asked as he watched her warily, afraid of her rapid-fire mood swings and wondering what she could be up to now.

          Her eyes met his, alight with wonder. "Sorry. I just wanted to see if your skin was as different as it looks, is all," she explained. She shook herself mentally to break the spell he seemed to have over her. "How do you know my father, anyway?" she asked, rubbing her wrist where he'd held it a bit too tightly.

          "Haven't you guessed? He's sent me to fetch you home," he said simply, stepping to the lone table in the chamber and conjuring a simple meal for them to share. "Hungry, pet?"

          She huffed at him. "Stop calling me that. I am not your plaything."

          Again, he appeared before her, looming over her and unsettling her with his closeness. "Would you like to be, dearie?" he asked, his voice low and husky. He watched the heat rise once more to settle upon her face and he had to admit the color was quite becoming on her. He was finding it more than a little enjoyable to rattle her composure.

          Disconcerted, her bravery reasserted itself. "You're just full of yourself, aren't you, O Dark One?" she sneered sarcastically, stepping around him and ladling a good portion of lamb stew into one of the bowls he'd provided. She ate silently, the first meal she'd had in two days, savoring the simple fare and the warmth and comfort it instilled in her. She watched him from beneath her lashes as he joined her at the table and began to eat. "Thank you."

          He regarded her warily as he chewed. "For what?"

          "Thank you for the meal. I was starving," she replied, slipping the spoon back into her mouth.

          "I was as well. I don't eat well languishing in your father's special dungeon," he remarked, bitterness coloring his tone.

          Belle's eyes narrowed as she lowered the spoon. "Explain, please. I don't take well to lies against my family. Why would you be in my father's dungeon if you didn't deserve it?" she asked defensively.

          In a flash, he gripped her wrist in his vise-like grip and jerked her forward until they were nose to nose. "Understand this, pet. I don't lie. I may withhold the truth occasionally and I may twist words to suit my purposes, but I. Do. Not. Lie," he hissed angrily. He held her until his anger cooled and thrust her back into her seat. "The king and his brother stole an item from me long ago, the source of my power and have held me as their slave ever since."

          For once, Belle held her tongue. Her mind reeled at the thought of her father keeping a slave, even one as powerful as Rumpelstiltskin. He had always protested fiercely against slavery, had abolished the practice in their kingdom when he’d first inherited the throne. She couldn't understand why he would do this. "Why?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. If she hadn't been sitting so close to him, he wouldn't have heard her.

          He placed one long finger beneath her chin and tipped her face up to meet his gaze, his coal-black eyes burning into hers. "Because he knows if he relinquishes the dagger to me, I will kill him," he answered with all honesty, his whispered words chilling her blood. She shivered under the ferocity in his gaze and quickly looked away.

          She rubbed her wrist where his hand had gripped her so cruelly, noting the skin held the faint hint of a bruise. But nothing about her person could distract her from the man before her. He was absolutely fascinating. He was better than a book she had yet to read and she was suddenly angry with her father because he had kept the sorcerer from her.

          What wonderful stories he must have to share, the knowledge to be gained from him. She could spend all her time with him and probably never grow bored with the conversation. But would he consent to it? Did he have a choice? The plan forming in her sharp mind had to be better than the dungeon.

          Rumpelstiltskin sat back in his chair and regarded her with a practiced eye. Why was it every female had that look about them? The one which foretold of dire trouble? "Whatever you happen to be plotting in that pretty little head of yours … you can forget it."

          "I wouldn't dream of plotting against you. You could squash me like a bug," she grinned Cheshire-like, the picture of innocence.

          "Then why are you looking at me like a peach tart?"

          She giggled. His mouth fell open in awe. She'd actually giggled at him, the Dark One. He looked deeply into her cerulean orbs, searching for a hint of madness and finding none.  _Very peculiar girl._  "I take it you enjoy peach tarts?"

          He scowled at her. "Brilliant deduction, dearie." He sighed and took her hand, pulling her to her feet.

          Her heart picked up in tempo at his innocent touch. "I-I have a name, you know?"

          "I'm sure you do … _pet_."

          She glowered at him and tried to pull away. "I don't like that term. My name is Belle. You may use that," she insisted. She gasped as he released her hand and pulled her struggling form flush with his body. The contact made heat rise to settle in the apples of her cheeks, giving her a lovely glow of innocence.

          His eyes lightened to a warm bronze as he slipped his arms about her waist, preparing to transport her home to Avonlea. He would be returned to the dungeon, once more, to rot. No more warm lovely maidens with eyes the color of the sky to banter with. No more rosebud lips arguing with him. No more delightfully delicious curves pressed tightly to his touch-starved body. Maurice had said not a scratch on her. He'd left a light bruise on her wrist. Still not against the rules. What else could he do to her which wasn't against the rules?

          He leaned in closer, his lips a scant few inches from hers. "Belle …" he whispered, a gasp falling from her lips as his breath fanned over her face, and he felt the tension drain from her, her body becoming pliant and soft in his arms. His tongue snaked out to wet his suddenly dry lips, tempted to give in to the heady desire she was making him feel. As his magic swirled around them, she breached the distance between them and caught his lips with her own. Rumpelstiltskin shrugged and lost himself to the pleasure of her lips, thinking,  _Well, this isn't against the rules either._


	2. MISTRESS

 

          Rumpelstiltskin shoved her roughly away from him as the smoke dissipated and left them standing in the corridor outside the king's war room. His lips felt afire where she'd brushed him with her own. What had possessed her to do such a thing as to kiss a monster? Again, he thought her peculiar. Did she prefer monsters and beasts to mere mortal men? He thought she'd make a splendid pet to bring home to the Dark Castle, his lair hidden high in the mountains among treacherous peaks and ragged caverns, only one lone perilous path leading to it which even the most adventurous souls shied away from it.

          He would enjoy breaking that indomitable spirit she was plagued with, bend her to his will and watch her wither under his rule. That would teach her to take such liberties with a monster. He should have dropped them at the feet of her father and let him see his daughter's boldness. So why hadn't he? Surely not to protect the girl's reputation, and it would have been the ultimate revenge over his _master_  to see his precious daughter wrapped in the Dark One's embrace.

          Belle stared at him with wide eyes, unable to believe she'd actually kissed the imp. What had she been thinking? She _hadn't_ been thinking. She'd been swept away by feelings she'd never experienced before, feelings she had no wish to feel again just yet. She couldn't let anything distract her from her purpose. She wanted away from her father's court, away from the petty avarice of the nobles who sought favor with the king, and she wanted away from the life of a princess.

          She'd decided long ago, all she wanted from life was a little adventure, the right to make her own decisions and a true love of her own. Deep down in her heart, she didn't want to rule. She loved her people greatly and would lay down her life for them, but she didn't think she should have a crown forced upon her, chaining her to the throne. No, she wanted freedom. She just didn't know how to break the news to her father.

          She pushed her melancholy to the back of her mind as she watched Rumpelstiltskin narrow his eyes on her. Apparently, he was none too pleased she had kissed him. And why not? It was his own fault, playing with her as though she were his own personal toy. She really shouldn't have done it, but he'd been so close, and he’d been invoking so many new emotions in her, she hadn't been able to resist exploring.

          He was wearing his ever-present smirk as he gestured grandly toward the doors leading into the war room. "Shall we, dearie? We don't need to keep your father waiting. He might think some ill has befallen you at my hands." He was ready to be done with this task, so he could leave her presence. That gleam in her eye was making him uneasy. No small feat to make the Dark One feel ill at ease, but damned if she wasn't doing it.  _Damn royals!_

          The doors opened with a flourish of his magical hand and Belle proceeded solemnly into the room, her head held high and her expression betraying nothing of her feelings. Her shoulders were set with determination and her chin was raised high. She was on a mission, one which she refused to fail.

          Maurice rose from his throne and approached her quickly, gathering her into his arms. "Oh, my darling Belle. Are you hurt? What did Edward do to you? Did the beast lay his hands on you?" he asked in a rush and glared over her shoulder at Rumpelstiltskin who stood silently, waiting to be sent back to the dungeon.

          Belle gently struggled out of her father's arms and hugged her uncle before setting her lips in a thin line. "I am just fine. It's not like this hasn't happened before. And I happen to be sick and tired of it!" she exclaimed. She stamped her foot and thought she heard a snicker come from the Dark One.

          Maurice's face flamed at her diatribe. "You were only six last time you were abducted. I didn't think you remembered that." It had been King Athelstan that time over a trade dispute. He'd been able to settle it peaceably without having to call upon the imp's assistance.

          "Of course, I remember. How does one not remember their own kidnapping!?" she snapped irritably. "But I tell you now, Papa, this is the very last time. You are going to see to it."

          "Yes, daughter, anything you wish," Maurice proclaimed, taking her hand in his and leading her to sit in her chair next to his throne. Rumpelstiltskin studied her as she glared at her father, her eyes suddenly calculating.  _Typical princess,_  he thought ruefully. "Whatever steps we need to take to make you feel safe. Anything and everything will be done to ensure your safety."

          "Anything?" she asked, her left brow rising in interest. "I have your word? You would sign a contract stating such?"

          "Uh …" The king suddenly looked rather nervous. He hated to be put on the spot by his own flesh and blood.

          "Papa," she bit out warningly.

          "Yes, yes, my girl. I would even sign a contract stating such," he grumbled.

          Belle smiled brightly and glanced at the imp from the corner of her eye. He looked intrigued behind his bored façade as he watched them surreptitiously. "Rumpelstiltskin, come forward please," she commanded in a pleasant tone. It was the please which drew him to her side. He was under no obligation to obey her, after all. If he didn't, he might feel a twinge or two from the dagger, but it wouldn’t be painful. Not like when he resisted his master. He refrained from giggling, dying to know what the girl was up to now. She gave him her full attention. "Please draw up a contract for my father."

          With a flourish of his hand, he presented his master with a contract, stating the king would be obliged to honor his daughter's request, and a quill with which to sign. "Daughter, is this really necessary?" Maurice asked, his tone bordering on a whine. She nodded, an expectant gleam in her eye.

          "Uncle, please witness it, if you will." She nodded at the imp and the contract disappeared with both signatures.

          "So, what is it you would like, my girl?"

          "I no longer want to have to worry about some noble whisking me away to his castle to be his plaything, his wife, his concubine or his slave. Therefore, I wish for you to grant me the one thing which will protect me, the one thing which will instill fear into the hearts of my would-be captors."

          "Yes, daughter?"

          "I want him," she said, pointing at the imp. "I want Rumpelstiltskin." She ignored the immediate protests rising from her father and uncle and watched the fire of hatred begin to burn in Rumpelstiltskin's eyes. He was going to be trading one master for another and he was furious. He didn't see the benefits yet of his new ownership, but in time, Belle thought, he would come to thank her. At least she hoped he would.

          "Belle, you cannot be serious," her father bellowed, outraged at the very idea of his daughter in constant contact with the dark sorcerer. "He will corrupt you. He will taunt you mercilessly into madness. He will twist your commands to his own purpose. You cannot do this."

          "Do it," she commanded softly yet her tone brooked no objection. "You agreed to a binding contract, you will stick to it. I don't know what you need to do to transfer ownership of the dagger, but see that it is done by morning." She rose to her feet and faced Rumpelstiltskin. "In the meantime, he and I need to have a chat."

          Rumpelstiltskin sneered at her, but held his tongue until she led him out of the room, leaving her relatives gaping in horror. He jerked her to a halt as soon as the doors closed behind them, taking her arm in a painful grip, his nails digging into the flesh of her elbow. "Just what are you about, princess?"

          She gasped and tried to pull away from him, tears springing to her eyes as he drew blood. "Release me," she commanded, ignoring the little trill of fear which skirted her spine.

          "You don't own me yet, dearie," he hissed angrily.

          "I would think someone with your intelligence would have figured it out in an instant. I need a protector and you need to be out of that dungeon." He let go of her at the backhanded compliment. She rubbed her elbow and lifted her chin haughtily, staring into his coal-black eyes. "I think we can have a mutually beneficial relationship if we can learn to work together. Aren’t you willing to give it a try?"

 _No more dungeon, decent food, a pet to toy with?_  He wondered what other concessions he might be able to wring from her while he plotted to get his hands on the dagger. "Very well, pet," he conceded.

          Belle seemed to visibly relax at his reluctant acquiescence and turned on her heel to continue along the corridor, expecting him to follow, though she was a little surprised when he did. He was quiet as he followed her down one corridor after another, up two flights of stairs and more corridors until he was near dizzy, keeping his hood up. There was no sense in scaring half the palace with his presence … yet. He'd have much more fun scaring the girl for the time being. She breezed into her chamber to find it filled with twittering ladies awaiting her return, lounging in her sitting room.

          "Please wait for me through there," she uttered softly, gesturing to the door which led into her bedchamber. He raised a brow at her, his features twisted in surprise. It wasn't often the Dark One was at a loss for words. He was to find this was only the first in a long list of surprises which awaited him. He did as she bade as she turned her attention to her guests. "Everyone, it is lovely to see you, but I must ask that you leave me, so I may rest." She was in no mood to listen to platitudes and flattery and gossip from the ladies in her father's court. Not a one had decent conversational skills and she was weary after her ordeal. She watched them file out of her chambers and breathed a sigh of relief.

          Her maid, who had been with her since childhood, nearly shrieked when she bustled into the sitting room. "Milady, there's a strange man in your bedchamber."

          "Yes, Clara, I know this. I sent him there. He's to be my new protector and he is to be with me at all times. Hopefully, you will quickly become accustomed to his presence," she informed her servant. If anyone could accept Rumpelstiltskin's new role in her life, it would be Clara. She'd never met another soul as good and compassionate as her maid. She wouldn't let his outward appearance deter her.

          "But, milady, he's in. Your. Bedchamber!"

          "Ahh. And that's your only objection?" she asked, her eyes alight with mischief.

          "Of course," Clara huffed, as if that should be obvious.

          "Clara, I assure you, the Dark One is not interested in me that way."

          "Did you say  _the Dark One_? As in the deal-maker?" she asked in a strained whisper, afraid the imp might overhear and make off with her soul for merely talking about him.

          "Yes, my dear friend, I did. Who better to protect me? Now, I'd like you to order a bath. Lots of towels and some of that soap Uncle Hugh is so very fond of, the one that smells like sandalwood."

          "Whyever would you want that?"

          "Because the Dark One is going to have a bath!"

 

*.*.*

 

          Rumpelstiltskin surveyed his new surroundings, only because he was curious as to what trinkets the little princess might have collected over the years. And if he was going to be spending copious amounts of time with her, he should at least learn his way around the spacious chambers. And it was quite roomy aside from the small sitting room he'd passed through earlier. Her bed chamber was done in several shades of blue - dark to light - and gold, the large four poster bed draped in it, a large wardrobe off to the left. To the right was a stone hearth with two comfortable armchairs placed before it, a sofa, and a large bookshelf overflowing with her favorite tomes.

          He walked over to the first armchair and noticed it was a bit more worn where the other looked practically brand new and deduced it as her favorite. With a smirk and a flourish of his hand, he changed the two chairs into a large sofa, overstuffed and ready to envelop anyone who sat on it. That should rile her well enough, he though with satisfaction.

          A curtain hung across the back of the room, and he couldn't stop himself from investigating, pulling aside the fabric. It was a small room, perhaps for a maid with only a single bed for the servant. The only other furnishings in the small room was a nightstand next to the bed. But what was attractive about it was the large open window which let in the breeze and light. He could well imagine lying in the bed on his back and gazing at the stars as he awaited sleep to take him.

          Then should he lay on his side, he would be able to watch over the princess as she lay abed, provided the curtain wasn't closed. Another flourish and the curtain's fabric transformed from a sturdy material into a sheer gauzy substance which looked as though a million tiny stars had been captured within its depths. He ran his hand over the bed linens and they also changed. No longer were they coarse linen and scratchy wool, but a soft cool sapphire silk trimmed in gold and a warm duvet. That would do nicely.

          He wondered if she would notice the change. Perhaps the maid who slept in the little chamber might like the changes to her comfort. It wasn't as though he was trying to be nice. It was just his boredom and a desire to stretch his magic. For far too long, it had been dormant as he wallowed in the dungeon, bound by fairy magic. He was fortunate it was ingrained in him and didn't have to be exercised daily.

          He ducked through an archway out into what must be her private garden terrace as several large burly servants entered carrying a large copper tub, followed by more servants with buckets of water to fill it. She could have asked him, and he could have prepared a bath for her with the snap of his very capable fingers.

          Her garden was quite lovely the way the path wove in and around a multitude of rose bushes.  _She must have a thing for roses. Gods know she smelled heavenly, even after days of captivity. Like a rose in bloom, the petals open to the sun. Stop it! She is to be your mistress, your slaver. There will be no dwelling upon how delectable she is._

          He turned to find her watching him from the archway, her face flushed and her eyes bright with excitement. A shiver of alarm raced along his spine, wondering what his little princess was up to now and knowing he wouldn't like whatever it was. "Rumpelstiltskin," she called to him, her voice wafting ever so pleasantly on the breeze. "Your bath is ready."

          He stared at her blankly. No, he couldn't have heard her right. Surely, she didn't think he was going to bathe … in her chamber … in her presence. "That's a quip, right pet?"

          She pursed her lips, trying not to smile openly at his distress, or what would soon be his distress. "You heard me correctly. Into the tub. You're filthy and I won't have you sharing my chamber in such a state," she declared. He couldn't move, his muscles frozen in place at such a suggestion.

          "I think I'll pass."

          "Should I send a request to my father and have him make it an order?" she asked sweetly, her eyes flashing with mirth. She knew she was testing him, but he needed some levity in his life. The poor man probably couldn't remember the last time his flesh had come in contact with soap and water. With his lightning fast reflexes, he was upon her in an instant, his face so close their noses almost touched. She refused to back down, threatening his ire further. "Or perhaps I might be able to have several of the guards see to the job. Quite a blow to your ego, I would presume."

          He shrugged quickly out of his dragon-hide coat and let it drop to the floor at her their feet, hatred burning in the black coals of his eyes. He worked open the buttons on his waistcoat and let it fall as well. It was when he began working at the buttons on his shirt when he raised a sardonic brow at her unwavering gaze. "You going to watch, dearie?" he asked with a half-moon grin. Her blush deepened, if that was possible, and she moved through the archway to sit on one of the benches, her back to him.

          He finished disrobing quickly and dropped himself into the steaming water with a hiss. "What are you trying to do, boil me to death? I assure you it won't work."

          "Well, you can't very well remove all that grime in cold water," she retorted, controlling her desire to turn and look at him. Her innate curiosity wondered if he was golden all over. She'd never been privy to a man at his bath before and her hands twitched nervously upon her lap with the desire to peek. She suppressed the urge, her teeth worrying her lower lip.

          He growled low in his throat and inspected the clay pot full of fragrant soft soap she'd provided. At least it didn't smell of roses, he thought gratefully. He watched her intently as he made quick work of his scrubbing and sat reclined against the back of the tub now that the water had cooled to a more tolerable temperature. He could tell by her fidgeting she was dying to ask questions, and it made him curious as to why she was holding back.

          , unable to stand the strained silence, she glanced quickly over her shoulder. "You haven't washed your hair."

          "So?"

          "So … wash it," she commanded.

          "No. You can call an entire garrison of guards in here and it still won't get washed," he insisted, an edge to his tone. He watched her back stiffen as she rose from the bench to fetch help and he smiled with satisfaction as she disappeared behind him. He shrieked as a bucket of water was dumped unceremoniously over his head. "You evil little harpy!" he sputtered. Before he could wipe the water from his eyes, she'd grabbed a handful of soap and began working it through his matted hair. "How dare you accost me in such a manner?"

          "Oh, hush, Rumpelstiltskin. Just think of how much better you'll feel once I'm done with you. You'll be clean, you'll have a satisfying meal and you won't have to sleep in that horrible dungeon." He could hear the smile in her voice. Another one of her tricks, no doubt.

          "Yes, dearie, I can … can see your father welcoming … me … to his dinner table." She was doing marvelous things to his scalp with her fingernails and it was hard to concentrate on what he was saying. And then she was rinsing the soap from his clean hair and he was able to breathe again. He was beginning to despise this effect she was having on him. He relaxed back into the tub only to bolt upright once more.

          "When it is necessary for me to dine downstairs, then you will also. But I much prefer to dine in my room away from the court, however," she said, pulling a comb through his hair, working the tangles and knots free as she spoke. She was quiet for a moment. She shouldn't be enjoying her task so much. It was the height of impropriety to even be in the same room with a naked man in her tub, much less washing his hair and then combing it out at her leisure. But she liked the way his hair felt against her hands and could only guess how soft it would be once it was dry. "You realize we don't have to be enemies, don't you, Rumpelstiltskin?" she asked softly, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden, resting the comb on her lap.

          "I don't see how it could be otherwise," he snapped. "You will be my mistress, I your slave. Such a relationship does not breed friendship."

          "I hope to prove you wrong." She cleared her throat, breaking the melancholy which had fallen over them. She pointed over his shoulder at the little chamber he'd redecorated earlier. "That will be your room, if it pleases you."

          "Your father will suffer a stroke should you put me there," he said, his laughter trilling shrilly throughout the chamber. "You must have very little care to propriety."

          She rose from the little stool she'd been sitting on to fulfill her task and turned to the door which led into her sitting room. "There is still much we need to discuss, but I will leave you now to finish up. I trust you can magic yourself a fresh change of clothes?"

          He snorted in offense. "Naturally." He turned in the tub to watch her leave, her shoulders not quite as rigid as they had been. He was afraid this was just the beginning of a never-ending battle with the little princess. She had many secrets and he would not rest until he'd discovered every last one of them.

 


	3. CAPTIVE AGAIN

 

          "Can you not sit still for five minutes? Your food is getting cold, by the way," she huffed in exasperation. He hadn't spoken to her the entire evening and his unwillingness to communicate was making her testy. She'd had Clara set up a small table in the garden, amongst the rose bushes, to dine with her new protector. He'd refused to sit with her, preferring to pace about her, studying her as if with a magnifying glass. He'd refused to eat, turning his nose up at the elegant fare. Perhaps if she tried for something simpler next time. He hadn't turned down the tea, however, and judging by the brief look on his face as he'd tasted it, it was definitely to his liking. Not that he would ever admit it. She still had high hopes she could tempt him with dessert, but not unless he would deign to speak to her. This was ridiculous!

          Rumpelstiltskin regarded the girl warily as he watched her eat. He had no fear of being poisoned, but he'd still switched their covered dishes when she’d gone back inside for her  _list_. Her bloody list of rules he would be forced to obey as soon as she gained possession of the dagger. But she had wanted to go over them with him first. Why? It's not as if his permission were required.

          She was such an odd girl. With her father she was strong and defiant, a true princess using whatever weapons in her arsenal to make her voice heard. But with him, she blew hot and cold. She tried to play the princess and then ended up showing a vulnerability which was completely unexpected and ofttimes left him flummoxed. And she wasn't afraid of him. Yet, she wasn't insane … he'd have to see if he couldn't nudge her over the edge. She needed a good healthy dose of fear, a fear of him.

          And why hadn't she dragged him off to her father's court like a puppet to dine before the sniping royals? That would have been better than an hour watching the court jester. He needed to know what he had to work with and if she couldn't be consistent in her actions, he would never know how to break through her defenses.  _Confound her! But damn if she doesn't make an excellent pot of tea. She said she’d made it herself, her own special blend. Maybe before I kill her, she'll share her secret?_

          Belle peeked up at him from beneath her lashes and flashed him a beguiling smile. He felt his eye begin to twitch and wondered how much longer he'd be able to hold his tongue. Silence, he had never been good with. Mockery, yes. Silence, no. "They also call you the deal-maker, don't they, Rumpelstiltskin?" she asked coquettishly and steepled her fingers together under her chin. His teeth clamped together to keep him from answering. "How about you and I make a deal?" His mouth opened and then slammed shut. Her smile grew brighter.  _Oh, this is just killing him, isn't it?_

          He dropped onto the padded bench pulled up to the table for his use and gazed at her with interest as he poured himself another cup of tea and laced it with sugar and lemon. And he waited with a brow raised in askance.  _That is all you're getting, pet._  She tapped her nails atop the covered dessert dish. "Conversation for dessert. You look like the kind of man who has a fierce sweet tooth," she purred. She's dealt with stubborn men her whole life; she was certain he'd be no different. Surely, he was just a man beneath the gold and magic.

          His face fell. Why was it women always had to throw sweets into the equation? _So not fair_ , he mentally protested. "How do I know what's under there is worth it? It could have raisins in it." He visibly shuddered at the thought.

          Belle made a mental note to make sure nothing he ate contained raisins. She'd have to remember to tell Mrs. Potts in the morning. "You don't. You would just have to  _trust_  that it is worth your time," she countered. Inwardly, she was doing cartwheels that he'd broken down and actually spoken to her. She knew he was still a bit sore at her for scrubbing his hair and she was just itching to run her fingers through it to see if it was as soft as she believed it would be. Of course, she wasn't brave enough to try that … yet.

          He snorted. Trust was for fools. "Let me see what's under there first."

          "No."

          A growl rumbled low in his throat.  _The little wench is enjoying this!_

          "Please," she purred silkily, her luminous blue eyes alight with mirth.

          He waved a finger under her nose scoldingly. "You plan on doing this often, do you?"

          Her smile never faltered. "I don't know what you're talking about. Now, do we have a deal?" Still, he was hesitant. "Would it make you feel better to know I have no idea what Mrs. Potts placed under the cover?"

          "Alright, pet. Deal."

          "Really?"

          "Yes, yes, now what's under the cover?" he asked impatiently, kicking himself for having given in to her request … voluntarily. She did as he asked and lifted the cover, sucking in a sharp breath as the smell of almond wafted to her nose, at least a dozen petit fours sitting innocently on the plate. Ladies of good breeding, especially princesses were not supposed to look as she did over a dessert. He wondered if she would wear the same look of pleasure beneath him in bed. Probably not, he thought ruefully. Princesses did not let monsters touch them like that. "Well?" he asked, shifting uncomfortably.

          Belle slammed the cover back over the plate and rose from the table, carrying it back inside. "Never mind, I've changed my mind."

          He was right behind her, twittering and gesturing like a madman. "Oh, no, dearie. No one breaks deals with me. You promised to share."

          She settled on the sofa and nodded to him, so he would sit on the other end. She tucked her feet up under her and set the plate between them. It was quite funny watching him, his thumb and forefinger rubbing together in anticipation. She lifted the cover and picked up one delicate little frosted cake and popped it into her mouth, unable to stop the moan which originated in the back of her throat as the flavor burst over her tongue.

          He froze, his hand extended toward the plate. "Do you have any idea what you look like when you eat these?" he asked, his voice taking on a decidedly husky tone. "It makes me wonder if you're as innocent as you claim to be."

          Belle blushed a fiery red even though she snickered. "My friends Snow and Aurora used to keep me away from these at school. They said the same thing." She popped another into her mouth and tried to keep the bliss from showing on her face. "Aren't you going to try one?"

          He picked up the little cake and sniffed, taking in the hints of almond and sugar and cake. He couldn't remember ever having had cake with frosting before, especially when he'd been so poor. Well, anything which could put  _that_  look on her face had to be good, he thought as he popped it into his mouth as she had done. He chewed slowly, his eyes widening and then it was his turn to take the plate from  _her_.

          "No fair!" she cried with a laugh as he jumped up from the sofa and held the plate far from her reach.

          "Your deal did not specify how much of the dessert you were willing to share, dearie. I believe you were more intent on the conversation," he muttered around a mouthful of the delicate dessert.

          Her mouth made a little moue of disappointment. "Couldn't I have just one more, Rumpel, please?" He lowered the plate at hearing his name, shortened affectionately on her tongue. She looked entirely too fetching in her eggshell blue gown, her entire face lit with mirth and laughter and acting as though he were her friend instead of his slaver. He was rethinking his accommodations in the dungeon. He shoved the plate at her with the last remaining piece and backed away. He didn't want to become comfortable with her or laugh with her. She was his future mistress and that was all there could ever be between them. He didn't care how many times he had to remind himself of that fact, he wouldn't let it happen again.

          "Let's discuss your list so you can retire. It's getting late and you've things to do tomorrow," he spat, bitterness creeping into his tone. "Unless you want to wait until the dagger is in your possession tomorrow. Then I'll have no choice but to obey."

          Belle's smile slipped away, leaving a troubled frown. He was retreating back to whatever darkness kept him in thrall, pulling away from the lighthearted banter they'd shared over a pastry, of all things. But if she was anything, she was determined to win him over … eventually. "I think you might be right."

          He moved to the archway leading out into the garden. "I'll leave you to prepare for bed, pet. Don't look at me like that. I won't be far." He left her there by the fire, her shoulders drooping dejectedly.

          Belle sighed deeply and called Clara in to help her out of her dress and into her nightgown, knowing he would remain in the garden to sulk. She would make it better. He would have freedoms he had never had under her father's thumb and eventually he  _would_  learn to trust her, to see she meant him no harm, to see she was his friend. Gods only knew the pain he'd suffered for too long, and she wanted to be the one to dispel it. She just didn't know how.

 

*.*.*

 

          The little princess was sitting at her vanity when he finally returned to the room an hour later, brushing out her long chestnut locks. He thought he'd given her enough time to prepare for bed, enough time to be asleep, especially the way her eyes seemed to struggle to remain open. Anyone else who had been through a kidnapping, imprisonment, and a rescue would be in a coma by now. It would be so easy for him to sneak up on her and give her a good fright. He'd get quite a good laugh over it, actually. So why did he suddenly change his mind and clear his throat to alert her to his presence, taking a step into the room?

          "I'll … uh … I'll be returning to the dungeon now, pet," he told her as his eyes met hers in the mirror.

          Belle whirled to face him, rising from the vanity, the hairbrush forgotten in her hand. "What? No." She took a hesitant step toward him; he took a step back. "No, I told you, you'll be staying here with me," she said firmly.

          "I don't think that would be wise. The servants will talk. Somehow, I don't think that would go over well with your father," he smirked. Not that he cared what happened to his master. He ground his teeth together thinking of the arrogant king. Let him think all sort of nasty thoughts. Let him think about the Dark One taking advantage of his little girl, suffering the nightmare over and over until it drove him to madness.

          She pointed to the little room at the back of her chamber he'd redecorated earlier in the day. She'd been pleased with the changes, but had kept that to herself. "You will remain here with me. You are to be my protector and somehow I just don't think you'll be able to fulfill your role if you're locked away in the dungeon."

          "As you wish," he said with a bow and turned to retreat to his room. He had taken a total of three steps when her voice reached him.

          "Rumpelstiltskin, thank you."

          "For what, dearie?" he asked without looking at her. There had been enough looking this evening. He didn't need to become more distracted by her beauty than he was already.

          "Thank you for rescuing me today. Goodnight." She left him alone and climbed into her bed, pulling the blankets to her chin and turning on her side to face away from him.

          Anger welled in him as he marched into the room allotted to him, nearly pulling the curtain from its hangings as he pulled it closed. He didn't want her thanks. No one ever thanked him for anything, never had. Why did she have to be so different, so kind? Nothing good could come from her sweetness. It had to be a ruse. No one could be so genuine.

          She was no doubt a skilled deceiver just like her father. He would obliterate the entire kingdom at the first opportunity and her along with it, wouldn't he? He cursed softly. Now he was beginning to doubt himself. Perhaps his feelings would change tomorrow once she actually possessed the dagger. His anger, his hatred and his rage at being owned by anyone would reassert itself and clear his head. Yes, he thought with satisfaction, tomorrow he would return to his old self and be able to banish these  _feelings_  she invoked within him. He hoped.

 

*.*.*

 

          Rumpelstiltskin refused to even glance in her direction, refused to be closer than ten feet to her as she sat sipping her tea on the terrace in the shade of a plum tree, a vision in teal silk. No one could possibly look that desirable at seven in the morning. His teeth were losing their sharp edge due to the fact he was constantly grinding them to resist the urge to talk with her. Not that he needed to when the chit talked enough for the both of them. Her ever-present smile had disappeared this morning when he'd joined her for tea and seen him attired completely in black to match his mood. He thought it appropriate. He felt as though he were waiting to attend a funeral … his own. They were just waiting for the summons from her father to add the final nail to his coffin.

          "Highness, your father has sent for you, dear," Rumpelstiltskin heard her servant say in quiet tones. He didn't move. He could already smell the fairy magic in the air. He didn't need to guess what was going on in her father's council room; he _knew_. Already, he could feel the bonds of his master slipping. Soon, he would feel nothing but  _her_. The little temptress clad in silk and smiles. How would he ever survive? He didn't think he'd be able to withstand her goodness and light against his eternal darkness and the thought was driving him mad.

          Belle handed Clara her tea cup and tilted her head to the right as she often did when she was deep in thought. Her eyes raked Rumpelstiltskin's lithe frame as he stood with his back to her. Every muscle in his body seemed tensed for flight or fight, she wasn't sure which and it made her wonder what he would look like if he would relax. Today was going to be difficult for him, of that she was certain, and she promised herself she would be patient. She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and felt as though he would shatter from the strain in his body. She ducked her head and let her hand fall back at her side, squaring her shoulders with determination.

          "Rumpelstiltskin …"

          He turned on her, once again trying use his powerful presence to intimidate her, his nose almost touching hers as he gripped her upper arms painfully. "Stop saying my name like that," he snapped.

          "Wh-What do you mean?" she asked, her voice breaking, frightened of him for the second time since they'd met. She could see the vile hatred in his eyes, but there was something else … pain? She was causing him pain? It only strengthened her resolve.

          "Stop saying it as if you care, like you're my friend. Stop saying it like the word is something pleasant on your tongue. I don't want you to be so fucking nice!" he yelled at her, pushing her roughly away from him. "Don't you realize I would kill you at the first opportunity, little girl. That I would happily rip and tear at you until you were lying at my feet in a bloody heap?" he hissed, closing even more of the distance which stretched between them.

          Belle stood her ground and blinked away furious tears, clenching her teeth together to quell her fear. She knew the invisible bonds were in place to protect her, that he couldn't do as he desired, but it didn't hurt any less to have him treat her in such a manner. Her voice was barely a whisper as she turned to flee. "I only wanted to help you."

          He felt a moment's remorse as he watched her disappear through the archway, but it left him almost as soon as it had come. He couldn't let himself feel anything for her. She was willfully going to bind him to her and he felt only hatred. Let her get used to it, for he would not change his mind,  _could not_  change his mind. He once again cursed his luck which had led the Beaumont brothers to his dagger. His dagger, the source of his power, that he'd thought was so well hidden. If they hadn't stumbled upon it accidentally, he wouldn't now be in this damnable situation. He lashed out blindly in his rage and kicked over one of her rose bushes, petals flying in every direction.

          For thirty years, three decades, he'd been a slave and yet he'd never felt so trapped. He could imagine her slender delicate fingers curling around the dagger, her blood sacrifice which would coat its blade and bind him to her. He would be able to feel her from anywhere in the known realms, impossible to escape her thrall. And having her so close would make him hate her all the more. 

 _I only wanted to help you._  Her words reverberated over and over in his mind, making his stomach churn. Why? Why did she think he needed her help? No one had ever wanted to help him before. Why should she be any different? And there in lay the crux of the matter. Why did he feel she was the only one who could?

 

*.*.*

 

          Belle swiped angrily at the tears streaming down her face as she made her way through the castle to the council room. She was angry she had let Rumpelstiltskin get to her, to provoke her, to make her cry. She loved her father, truly she did, but, at the moment, she could happily take a horsewhip to both him and her uncle Hugh. How could they have done this to him, taken away his life and his freedom and ground his soul into dust? She realized it could have gone back even further into his past, but she wasn't thinking that far ahead.

          In her anger, she'd rather lay the blame on someone she knew. The cold truth was that he hated her just as much as he hated her father and uncle and it was like a knife in her heart. She'd never had anyone hate her before. Her mother had been taken from her at the tender age of nine, but what she had learned from her were lessons she lived by, to be good and kind and treat others with respect. And she was trying.

          She paused before the double doors leading into the room where her father waited, overcome with doubt. Was she doing more harm than good by becoming his mistress? Could she live with his hate and his coldness and his desire to leave her bloody and beaten at his feet? Would she be able to help him? He needed her just as much as she needed him. It was for much different reasons, but there nonetheless. She lifted her chin proudly, donning her princess persona, her mask. and shoved the doors open to face those assembled. Her eyes narrowed on the little bobbing fairy dressed in green.

          "Highness," the fairy greeted her, her tiny face devoid of all emotion. "I cannot stress to you how grave this decision is. No good can come from controlling the Dark One. I must advise against this."

          Belle glared at her father with malicious intent, knowing full well he had no doubt railed at the fairy for hours about her scheming ways. "Nice try, Papa. We will abide by your contract, thank you," she pronounced firmly and returned her attention to Marelle. "May we please begin?"

          A chill crept through the chamber as the fairy moved to the bottom of the steps where the chest had been placed on a low table. Belle rubbed her hands over her arms, bared by the cut of her dress, her fingers brushing the light bruises left there by Rumpelstiltskin's rough treatment of her. Doubt was beginning to unnerve her as she wondered if she were making the right decision.

          "Maurice, please place your hand on the chest and recite the words to release your claim," Marelle said, ready to perform the first step in the ceremony.

          The king met Belle's defiant stare with one pleading her to change her mind. "Please, Belle. Won't you reconsider?" Belle ground her teeth together and shook her head, determined to go through with her decision. He sighed in defeat and placed his hand on the enchanted chest. "I, Maurice Beaumont, Sovereign of Avonlea, do hereby give up claim over the Dark One and relinquish his dagger to my daughter, Belle, Princess of Avonlea, to command at her will." His hand glowed green as the fairy waved her wand over his hand as it rested atop the chest. The lid sprang open and he lifted the kris dagger into his hand, taking the few steps to reach his daughter.

          Belle swallowed nervously against the lump which had formed in her throat to choke her and held out her hand, the candlelight reflecting its image in her clear blue eyes. Hesitantly, she took the cool metal in her hand and ran her fingers over the blade. A shiver tripped along every nerve ending she possessed, feeling the power ripple and pulse through her as it recognized her as its owner. It made her dizzy and the room tilted before her.

          "Belle, speak the words, dear," Marelle told her, hovering close to the princess.

          "I accept this responsibility and claim it as my own," Belle answered, her voice small and awed.

          Marelle spared her a pained, sympathetic glance before she gave instruction. "Draw the dagger over your palm, highness, and then smear the blood over the blade. Once you've done so, you must say the name of the Dark One three times to summon him to you."

          Belle did as Marelle instructed, wincing as the dagger cut into the flesh of her palm, leaving a deep burning sensation. Her blood dropped onto the blade and her fingers smoothed it into the deep carving of his name inscribed on the blade, her caress almost loving. She spoke his name, the moniker almost a loving caress as it slipped from her lips.

          Rumpelstiltskin appeared before her on bended knee, his head lowered in a display of subservience. His teeth gnashed together in fury, rage emanating like a tangible force from his tightly coiled body. "How may I serve you … my mistress?" he bit out venomously, forcing back the bile which rose to choke him at those softly uttered words.

          Sadness overwhelmed her, and a tear escaped the corner of her eye to trek down her face. Never again, did she ever want to see him on his knees. She smoothed her hand over his soft hair, indulging in her desire to touch him from the night before, seemingly unable to help herself. It was small comfort, but all she dared with her father in the room.  

          Rumpelstiltskin's gaze remained on the floor at her feet. "Rise, Dark One," she murmured, bowing to his earlier wish to refrain from using his name. She turned from him to prevent him seeing her tears and moved to place the dagger back into the enchanted chest. Belle placed her hand atop the chest and let the fairy seal it with magic to prevent any other but her from gaining access to the dagger.

          "It is done," Marelle proclaimed. "Belle, wield the power wisely, my dear. For all our sakes." And then she was gone with a faint pop.

          Her father dropped heavily into his throne-like chair and buried his face in his hand. "What have I done?" he lamented.

          "Thank you, Papa. Now you can rest easy and not worry I will be abducted from my bed by your enemies. You've done the right thing."

          "Be careful, my girl. Never relax your guard with him, for he will turn on you, Belle. There will be no taming of that beast," he warned.

          "I will see you tonight for dinner, Papa," she said firmly and swept out of the room, leaving her dark servant to follow in her wake.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Love you guys so much for reading and reviewing and following and favoriting. So glad I could suck you into another tale. xoxox


	4. UNFORESEEN

 

 

          Rumpelstiltskin trailed behind his new mistress, seething with rage at the little royal. His eyes narrowed on the hand she was quickly binding with a handkerchief as she led him through the corridors. He could easily heal the wound for her if he were in a charitable mood … he wasn't. He was still nursing his anger. It would have been better if she had never learned of his existence.

          He could have just languished in the dungeon until his master died and he could gain his freedom … if he wasn’t passed along to the next in the bloodline. No, now he was stuck with the little do-gooder. He wondered what selfish thing she would ask for with her first command. Jewels, riches, fine silks? From what he'd witnessed in the last twenty-four hours, she'd probably have him saving some war-torn little province and setting up a relief camp for those displaced. He repressed a shudder at the very thought.

          He would never forget the moment she had gained possession of the dagger. Even as he'd remained far away from her in their chamber, he had been able to smell her blood as she'd caressed it into the blade, the touch of her fingertips on the dagger sending an erotic thrill through his body from neck to tailbone, shimmering along his spine. He was still hard from the sensation of her phantom touch. His eyes shifted to her twitching backside as she led him down another corridor, this one filled with members of her father's court and guards spaced out along the drafty hall at intervals, ready to be called to the service of the king. His gaze narrowed as her steps faltered and she began to sway unsteadily.

          Belle dropped like a stone before he could reach her, her head smacking harshly against the stone floor. A startled cry of "Highness" rang through the corridor as the guard nearest her knelt at her side.

          Rumpelstiltskin knelt on her other side and caught the guard's hand in his claw-like fist before he could touch her, the hood of his cloak falling back to reveal his features. "Touch my mistress and I'll have to break it off, whelp," he hissed furiously. She was his to protect, and while under that protection, he'd not let any other put their hands on her.

          The guard shrank away from him in fear as the sorcerer lifted her in his arms and disappeared in a thick cloud of purple smoke. Hovarth made his way down the corridor in search of the king, passing the nobles who had also witnessed the scene. Who was the mysterious man who had made off with their princess? Maurice would have much explaining to do to the denizens of the kingdom to prevent a panic.

          Belle whimpered as Rumpelstiltskin laid her none too gently upon her bed, but kept her eyes tightly closed to ward against the pain in her hand. It radiated from her palm and sent curls of fire licking up her arm. Her price, no doubt, to have the temerity to own the all-powerful sorcerer. All magic comes with a price, she thought with disdain. It would be too much to accomplish a good deed and come away unscathed. She swallowed against the bile rising in her throat and chanced a glance at him. What she saw there was no less than what she’d expected, hatred, anger and disdain.

          She snatched her hand away from him before he could remove the handkerchief she'd wrapped around it to staunch the flow of blood. His lips curled back over his teeth in a snarl as he grabbed her wrist, giving her no choice but to comply. She knew she was no match for his strength, his power making him more than he seemed. Instead of fighting him, she curled her fingers into her palm and glared at him.

          "Let. Me. See," he commanded, his tone clipped in his annoyance. "It won't take but a moment to heal you, mistress," he said, spitting the last word at her as though it were venom upon his ancient tongue.

          Belle winced as she tightened her fist and hated herself for allowing her pain to show on her ashen features. "No. I don't want you to heal me," she protested, hating how weak she sounded. Blood loss and only tea for breakfast would do that to her.

          He cast her a puzzled frown, having never met anyone who would pass on his willing offer to heal. Then again, he'd never offered his services to another. "Why? Why would you choose to suffer? Infection could set in. Have you ever seen what infection can do to a person, pet?" Rumpelstiltskin asked, his eyes narrowing, hoping he would be able to explain in detail, though he doubted she would be able to maintain the contents of her stomach if he did.  _Oh, to see my little mistress squirm with revulsion._  The thought made him almost giddy.

          "I-I'll be fine," she stammered, lowering her gaze to her hand as she removed the soiled cloth and looked closely at the gash on her palm.

          He sat down on the bed next to her, his hip pressing into hers as he leaned forward to peer at her hand. He clucked his tongue with disgust. "Foolish girl," he hissed irritably. "You shouldn't have cut so deeply. Give me your hand and let me heal you before you lose any more of your precious royal blood," he warned, his voice dripping with sarcasm and disdain.

          Belle glared at him, her eyes flashing hotly at his tone. She scooted awkwardly to the other side of the bed and swayed unsteadily to her feet, refusing to give in to the dizziness that nearly overwhelmed her. "It will heal in time," she whispered, more to reassure herself than to answer him. She moved to her dresser where a pitcher and basin awaited her, so she could cleanse the wound, giving him her back.

          He sneered at her, rising from the bed to stand at her back. "It's going to leave a scar, dearie. Not very attractive for a royal to be prancing around with less than perfect skin," he sneered with a smirk, his voice taking on a shrill pitch.

          She hissed as her hand came in contact with the cool water. "I deserve nothing less. A scar is little to pay for what I've done today. It will remind me of the injustice of holding another against his will and I will wear it as a monument to your suffering." She blinked back the moisture gathering in her eyes, the weight of her actions crushing her lungs and making it hard for her to breathe. Opening a small wooden chest on her dresser, she removed a salve which would help with the pain and bandages to bind the injury. She had difficulty trying to wrap the wound and was startled when his hands brushed hers aside and quickly bandaged her hand with sure movements.

          "There, that should do," he muttered brusquely. "Now, sit down before you fall down, pet." The power of the dagger made sure he felt a twinge of discomfort at his mistress's displeasure. He would gladly withstand it and felt a deep-seated satisfaction that he'd caused it. "It's your own fault you're feeling so bloody guilty. You didn't have to take the dagger as your own. You could have simply asked your father to appoint me as your protector. Surely, you could have persuaded him to make a deal."

          Belle emitted an unladylike snort and smirked at him in the mirror. "I'm sure I could have. But my father is not what you would call the fairest man in the realm. I'm fairly certain I could have bent him to my will, but  _you_  would still be in the dungeon, living on scraps and treated worse than ogre fodder."

          "And I suppose being here with your lovely personage is so much better," he fairly snarled at her.

          She lifted her chin, her eyes daring him to rebuke her. "Yes," she insisted stubbornly. "You may not see it that way, but I'm confident, in time, you'll change your mind."

          His lips pressed into a thin line of irritation. "Don't hold your breath,  _pet_." He lifted a sardonic brow as she smiled timidly. "If you feel so guilty, why not just return the dagger to me and let me be on my way?"

          Her smiled faded in an instant, leaving her teeth to worry at her bottom lip. "I can't do that. I have a duty to my people. If I were to free you, in your anger, you wouldn't hesitate to raze Avonlea from the realm along with every man, woman and child."

          He searched her face for any sign of deception and began to feel uncomfortable when he found none. No one could be so good, so pure or heartfelt with her emotions. He'd been alive for three hundred and fifty years and couldn't ever recall meeting someone like her. It was faintly disturbing and her insight alarming. "Clever girl." He would have said more had her maid not entered carrying a tray containing their luncheon.

          "Milady, how are you feeling?" Clara asked as she set the tray down on the table set before the sofa. "The castle is abuzz with gossip about your new guard," she said, eyeing Rumpelstiltskin warily. He wandered over to the overflowing bookshelf and pretended to peruse her collection, giving them his back and the illusion he wasn't listening intently to their conversation.

          "Papa must be trying to assure the court the Dark One poses no threat to them. Provided no one seeks to do me harm," Belle remarked wearily as she accepted the cup from her maid.

          Clara poured a second cup and looked askance at her charge. "How does our new friend take his tea, milady?"

          Belle smiled warmly at the woman's acceptance of Rumpelstiltskin. "One sugar and a slice of lemon." Her smile brightened as Clara prepared the cup and brought it to him, dipping into a curtsey when he took the cup from her with a puzzled frown. "Thank you, Clara, that will be all."

          He watched his mistress over the rim of the cup, but made no move to join her. She remembered how he took his tea. He would have to add observant to her list of attributes. So far, they were growing in number and the reasons he had for disliking her were dwindling. That thought was beginning to alarm him.

          Belle patted the sofa cushion beside her, a blush rising to stain her cheeks. "Ru…" she hesitated, remembering his earlier anger and the desire for her to refrain from using his name. "Won't you join me? You haven't eaten anything substantial since before we left Milhorn. Pastries don't count," she added quickly when he opened his mouth to argue. "Surely, you must be hungry."

          The mage wondered if she would make it an order if he refused her once again. He didn't want to think of having to force a meal down which was covered in those ghastly sauces from the night before. Food was supposed to be savored for each individual morsel, not drowned in thick goo which passed as delicacies in this realm.

          Grudgingly he took a seat beside her and observed her from the corner of his eye as she fluttered about removing covers from the tray, revealing a simple fare of soup, crusty bread and an assortment of cheeses. He wanted to refuse the offering just to spite his mistress, but his mouth watered as the aroma of ham, navy beans and rosemary assailed his keen sense of smell. It was all he could do not to snatch the bowl from her hands. He raised the spoon to his mouth and closed his eyes in ecstasy as the flavors burst over his tongue. How long had anything as simple as soup brought him such joy? It grated that it was because of his new mistress he was experiencing such pleasure. He cut his eyes over at her to find her watching him intently, a small smile curving her lips.

          He could tell she wanted to say something and then thought better of it, turning her attention to her own meal. They ate in companionable silence, each plotting against the other. Belle's heart broke for what Rumpelstiltskin must have suffered having her father as his master and she could have happily throttled the monarch. He finished off a half loaf of bread, two quarters of the cheese, his entire bowl of soup and half of hers when she’d insisted she was done. He needed it far more than she did. She would have indeed used the dagger's persuasion to make him eat if he'd refused, but she was glad he hadn't forced her to it. She didn't want to control him and would only do so as a last resort.

          His belly full for the first time in ages, he let his gaze slide over to her. "I believe you wished to go over your  _list_  today, mistress," he said through clenched teeth.

          Belle's eyes brightened, hoping he would be pleased with her simple demands. She drew her legs under her on the sofa and unfolded her arm across the back, turning to him fully. "It's not as bad as you might think, Ru …" She clamped her mouth shut on his name once again, her face flushing hotly. "I don't even know what to call you," she retorted, refusing to go about calling him 'hey you'.

          His head dropped back against the sofa cushions, suddenly very tired of the whole situation. "You are my mistress now. You can call me whatever you like, and I can't do a damn thing about it," he spat bitterly.

          "Well, I'm not going to call you slave or thrall. I'll use your name if that's acceptable to you?" she asked, wishing he would look at her, acknowledge her, yell at her; she cared not which. He simply nodded. "Good. There is … um … very little I … ah … require of you."

          Rumpelstiltskin quirked a brow at her, bracing himself for her list of demands. Greedy little royals. He could well imagine what those demands would be.

          She tilted her head to the right, studying him while she tried to collect her thoughts, her hands twisting nervously upon her lap. "There will be no killing, maiming, pillaging, terrorizing or other such vile acts against anyone in the kingdom … including my father. He may very well deserve a little maiming, but I can't let you do that."

          He had to bite his tongue and school his features into a bland mask when all he wanted to do was chuckle at her boldness for saying such a thing about not only her father, but the king. "Very well, mistress." He'd been expecting that command from the dutiful little princess.

          "I don't think we need to go over your accommodations since you've seemed to settle in well. The only other thing I ask is that you protect me to the best of your ability. Wherever I go, you go. I have no desire to be the victim of another kidnapping," she told him with a wry twist of her lips.

          "What else?"

          "What do you mean?"

          "What else do you desire, mistress?" he asked, expecting her greed to make itself known anytime now.

          She blinked several times until his meaning finally sunk in. "Oh … no … that is all."

          His mouth gaped open and his brow drew inward with a puzzled frown.  _Beg pardon, pet? What. The. Fuck?_  "That's it? No wishes for jewels or gold or silks or … power?" he asked in astonishment.

          "Well, there is one thing I would like to ask," she hedged timidly, worrying her lower lip. It was a habit of hers which was quite disconcerting as he found his eyes continually drawn to her mouth. He cast her a smug smile and waited, convinced he was right.

          "Yes?"

          "Is there anything from your home you would like to bring here to make you more comfortable? I know it has been a long time since you … nevermind," she said, ghosting away from what was surely a painful subject. "What I mean to say is that you may return home to collect anything you might like to bring here."

          The Dark One gaped at her and stuck his finger in his ear, wiggling it around, fearful his hearing was failing. No, that wasn't it. He was on her in a flash, his gaze penetrating as it bore into hers. "Just what are you playing at, pet?" he asked, uncaring if the dagger brought on the worst pain he'd ever felt. But she didn't back down. She smiled at him.  _What the hell does she have to smile about with her trickery?_

          Belle reached out and brushed away a lock of hair which had fallen over his eyes and he jumped back as though scalded. She ignored his question. "Take the rest of the day if you like, Rumpelstiltskin. But I do expect you to join me for dinner." She pushed to her feet and moved to the door. "If you return early, I shall be in the library."

          He called out to her before she could leave. "What of your protection? Shouldn't you come with me?" he asked, trying not to let his confusion over her intentions consume him.

          She smiled gently. "Not this time." She didn't want him to take her to see his home out of a sense of duty, but because he desired it. Now was not that time. "Don't worry about my protection. I'll have Hovarth watch over me today." And with that, she left him there alone with his thoughts.

 

*.*.*

 

          The sorcerer landed unsteadily before the tall iron gates which barred entry to the Dark Castle, his home, and breathed in the crisp mountain air. His hand, with its blackened nails, caressed the gate almost lovingly, the iron recognizing its master and swinging forward. His smile was smug as he moved onto the cobbled path leading into the stone fortress. His wards had held, leaving the castle in stasis, unchanged since his abrupt departure. Even the roses in the vase on the table in his foyer remained unchanged.

          Not a thing was out of place, his collections stowed away in the immense glass cabinet or on their respective pedestals in the Great Hall. But it was his centuries-old spinning wheel sitting idle in the corner which caused the smile lighting his face, one of the only remnants from his human life. He closed his eyes as his hand traced across the smooth wood. It would be the first thing to make the trip to Avonlea by magic. There was a spot in the corner of Belle's chamber where he could sit and watch her every move while he sat at his wheel. For now, it would do. If he needed anything from his potions lab, he could always retrieve it later. But the wheel he needed now. Perhaps it could help rein in the violent temper which came part and parcel with his curse.

          With a flourish of his hand, the wheel vanished. A snap of his fingers and a fire began to dance brightly in the great stone hearth which took up a good portion of the wall. He pulled out his favorite chair which sat at the dining table - that could easily seat twenty - and plopped down into it with a sigh. He summoned a tea service and propped his feet atop the table, leaning back and sipping contentedly from his cup. _Home_.

          It didn't take long for his satisfaction to melt into disdain as his thoughts turned to his little mistress. She was a petite thing, really. Chestnut curls with hints of red, a lovely rosebud mouth, even when it was drawn in irritation, jewel-bright cerulean eyes which betrayed her every emotion and curves which would fit his hands as though made for him. His frown grew more aggrieved.

          It wasn't her lovely outward charms which worried him, though it seemed he wasn't able to quell the lust which plagued him when in her presence. No, it was her sharp mind and droll wit which intrigued him. She was well-read and extremely smart. She cared more for the running of her kingdom than she did for the intrigues and petty squabbles of her father's court. She cared about people, from the highest nobles to the lowest serf and it showed in the way she treated her servants … in the way she treated  _him._  She was trouble.

          His fist came down hard on the arm of his chair, his mood blackening as he failed to come up with the solution to his current dilemma. There had to be a way to coax her into giving up the dagger to him of her own free will. Free will was probably the only thing which could break the spell of fairy magic.

          Yes, it would have to be freely given. But how to get her to do it. Threats? No, that would never work on her. She wasn't afraid of him. And why the hell not? When they'd left the tower at Milhorn and he'd wrapped her so tightly in his embrace, she hadn't flinched or screamed or fainted. Any other maid would have. Why was she so different and brave and beautiful?

          It was a dangerous and deadly combination. He could bring kingdoms to their knees using her as his secret weapon. And what the hell had possessed her to kiss him? Of course, there was no denying he'd provoked her. But that should only have worked if he'd been a normal man, courting her passions. Bah! He was going mad trying to figure her out.

          Belle seemed to keep to herself more often than not, had told him this herself. Perhaps she was lonely. Could she be so lonely and isolated she would prefer the company of a monster to the nobles who flitted about the castle like locusts, devouring everything in their path? Smart girl. But could she? Perhaps that would be the key to what he wanted. His lips curved into an evil grin as an idea began to form in his mind. She wanted a friend, a confidante, someone to ease the loneliness of her royal existence. He would give her more than she’d bargained for.

          He wasted not another moment, banking the fire and departing immediately for Avonlea … and his unsuspecting little pet … his mistress.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, guys, whatcha think? Have I piqued your interest? Just a little? Can't wait to hear your thoughts on Rumpel's plight. Belle still may have a trick or two up her sleeve. Thank you so much for all the reviews, follows and favs. You guys are the best!


	5. PLANS

 

          The centuries-old spinning wheel was perfectly positioned in the spot he'd chosen when Rumpelstiltskin returned to the chamber he shared with his mistress. He hummed with pleasure at the thought of being able to lose himself to the wheel that evening instead of listening to his mistress prattle on about whatever it was she liked to go on about. It seemed the chit didn't know how to close her mouth unless she was either sleeping or eating.

          Sometimes she wasn't even quiet then. He didn't like it one bit she hadn't journeyed with him to the Dark Castle. Mayhap an hour or two shackled in the dungeon would have curbed her tongue. He knew it would have done wonders for his mood. Now where had she said he'd be able to find her? Library. With a snap of his fingers, he materialized in the cavernous room between the stacks. Sniffing the air, he could smell faint traces of her scent. Roses and some spice, cinnamon? And a unique smell which was uniquely Belle. But it was hours old and she was nowhere to be found as he did a quick search. No princess. No guard. He growled low in his throat, angry she wasn't where she was supposed to be.

          He pulled the hood of his cloak low over his head to hide his face, using the magic of their bond to locate her and bring him through the void to her side. She passed right by him, the imbecile Hovarth trailing in her wake. What was she doing in the village? He remained where he was for a moment, taking her in. Belle was wearing a bright royal blue cloak with ermine trim and carried a basket over her arm; her guard carried two more. She stuck out like a sore thumb in the middle of the village, her signature chestnut curls spilling down her back. She was putting herself on display and showing everyone she had no regard for her safety.

          "Just what the hell do you think you're doing," he hissed angrily, magicking himself into her path and taking her elbow in a vise-like grip. She dropped the basket to the dirt path and shrieked. He was hovering over her like a large bird of prey, his eyes boring into hers.

          "I-I …" Her voice trailed off as Hovarth dropped his load and drew his sword, moving forward to protect his charge.

          Rumpelstiltskin's eyes never left her, his threatening stance never changing as he raised his hand and subdued the guard. Belle gasped as she glanced down to the whining black Labrador puppy at her feet. "Is … is that … Hovarth?" she asked, cringing at the sight of her guard, or what used to be the young man.

          "You were supposed to be in the library, pet. What the hell were you thinking, coming out here with only one guard? Is this what you call protection?" he railed at her, his voice beginning to draw a small crowd of onlookers.

          "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking about …"

          "That's right! You weren't thinking. How do you know someone isn't lurking, just waiting for the opportunity to make off with you, hold you for ransom, or even kill you? You have no idea how many enemies your father has made over the years. Foolish, gullible girl!"

          Instead of getting angry with him for making a scene in the middle of town, a faint smile curved the corner of her mouth as she narrowed her eyes suspiciously on him. "You were worried about me," she said softly.

          He drew back as though she'd slapped him. "Rubbish!"

          "Deny it all you like, Rumpelstiltskin, but you were worried about me." Her smile grew wider as she turned to proceed down the path once more. "And until you change Hovarth back into my guard, you may carry the baskets," she proclaimed haughtily and flounced away, leaving him grinding his teeth and clenching his fists at his sides as he tried to regain his composure.

          Grumbling and cursing the fate which had put the dagger in her hands, he snatched up the baskets at his feet, growled at the knight turned dog to heel and stalked up the lane after her. The puppy in turn latched its little teeth onto the sorcerer's boot, growling and snapping as they followed Belle to the very edge of the village. And why was she walking, he wondered. She could very well have taken a carriage to save her expensive slippers and the hem of her gown which would surely never be the same. His mistress had the noble bearing of a princess, and the heart of a peasant. Royals were vain and selfish whereas most peasants would give of themselves from the goodness of their hearts, never expecting anything in return. She wasn't supposed to be this  _nice_. He was very nearly choking on the word.

          Belle knocked on the door, grinning over her shoulder as she watched Rumpelstiltskin try his best to hold the puppy at bay without dropping the baskets in his arms. The door opened, and a young woman appeared, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy as if she'd spent hours crying out her sorrow to the world. Rumpelstiltskin eyed her suspiciously and then shrugged, confident the woman was no threat to his mistress.

          "Your highness," the young woman said in greeting, dropping into a quick curtsy. "Please, come in. Can I make you a cup of tea?"

          Belle smiled sympathetically. "Of course, dear." She handed the woman the basket and took the others from Rumpelstiltskin before following inside.

          The mage scowled as the door closed behind her and plopped down on a wooden stump not far from the front door where he could still hear Belle's melodious voice drifting through the open window. Apparently, the young woman, Beth as she was called, had lost her husband to an accident involving the digging of a well in the village. Of course, Belle would take it upon herself to offer aid to the girl. His former master, being the sovereign of the kingdom, should have made the trek through the village in Belle's place. His opinion of Maurice dipped another notch. He was wondering if he would ever understand her. Not that he could ever do that if he wouldn't deign to speak to her, he thought, his scowl growing darker.

          He was lost in thought, so the young girl tugging at his cloak took him a bit by surprise. He was taken aback at the sad picture she presented. She was rail thin, her dirty blond locks streaming over her frail shoulders in a mass of tangles. Her clothes had seen better days and hung overlarge on her frame. The only clean spot on her entire body was the thumb stuck in her little mouth and the trails her tears had left through the dirt on her face. But it was her eyes which disturbed him the most. Pale sky-blue orbs so filled with heartbreak, it cracked the ice around his heart in that special place he had only reserved for his child who had been lost to him so long ago.

          She couldn't be more than four or five years old, and he wondered how one so young could hold such sadness in her soul. A deep frown furrowed his brow as he lifted her onto his lap. She fisted her little hand around the fabric of his cloak and laid her head against his chest, seeking warmth and comfort, so desperate for the contact, she didn't care that he was different and even a little frightening. He cradled her to him and brushed her hair behind her ear.

          "What's your name, poppet?" he asked, his voice gentle so as not to frighten her. "Is this your home?" He pointed to the hovel Belle had disappeared into earlier. She giggled softly around the thumb in her mouth as the puppy nibbled gently at her bare toes. She nodded hesitantly in answer to his question, but she didn't volunteer her name. "Can you speak?" She nodded again.

          The knight turned puppy raised up on his hind legs and put his front paws against the child's leg, begging for attention. She giggled as he licked the palm she reached down with to pet him. "I like your dog, mister," she said, peeking at Rumpelstiltskin with wide honest eyes.

          "You are a mess, little one. What has happened to you?"

          Her eyes grew sad once more as she stuck her thumb back in her mouth. He grabbed her hand and held it, raising his brow and challenging her to refuse to answer his question. She sighed and nestled deeper into his cloak. "I … my papa died, and mama is sad. All she does is cry in her bed," she told him, her tone wise beyond her meager years. "I hope she gets better."

          He growled low in his throat. So, the young woman had been neglecting her child in favor of her grief. He felt the urge to burn the hovel to the ground well up inside him. He recalled his own grief and sadness the day he had been forced to tell his son that his mother had died. He couldn't very well tell Bae his mother was a traitorous wretch who had run off with a pirate.

          "Are you hungry, poppet?" he asked, gentling his voice once again. He didn't wait for her to answer before he magicked a bowl of warm stew to his hand, a spoon in the other. "Let's get something warm in your stomach and then we'll see to getting you cleaned up, shall we?"

          The dog sat back on his haunches and tilted his head to the side, watching the mage with a keen eye as he took care of the child. The age-old sorcerer sat there, feeding the little child as though he had all the time in the world with a patience rarely seen until the bowl was empty. "Feel better?"

          She smiled up at him and nodded. "Yes. Thank you, mister."

          Rumpelstiltskin set her at his feet and watched as she pulled Hovarth onto her lap to scratch his belly. He rose to his feet and conjured a small wooden tub, filling it to the brim with warm water for her to bathe. He set a large silk screen around it to give her privacy. "Here, poppet," he said, handing her a bathing cloth, a towel and a bar of rose-scented soap. "Take these and go clean yourself up. I promise no one will disturb you at your bath."

          Her eyes widened as she took the items from him and disappeared behind the screen. He sat down again on the stump and smiled as he heard her splashing, the sound only broken by her pleased giggles. With a flourish of his hand, he conjured her new undergarments, a simple lavender peasant blouse and a brown skirt with flowers embroidered on the hem and set the items where she could reach them when she emerged from the tub. When she was done, he cleaned up her mess and set her back on his lap to run a brush through her snarled hair. He was very nearly done braiding it when Belle emerged from the hovel and stopped in her tracks, watching her servant care for the little girl with all the tenderness she had thought absent from his life.

          "Mama, Mama, look at my pretty new clothes!" she squealed happily, running to her mother proudly.

          Beth looked at Rumpelstiltskin's fearsome countenance and grabbed the child's hand in terror. "Come into the house, Della. Quickly!"

          Della squirmed out of her mother's grip, running back to the imp and throwing her arms about his legs in a thankful hug. "Thank you, mister."

          Rumpelstiltskin lifted the child in his arms, her own wrapping tightly about his neck. "You're more than welcome, poppet." He strode stiffly to Beth and glared down into her frightened eyes. "I'm certain your mother will not neglect you again anytime soon," he said warningly. He handed the girl to her mother and paced several yards away before he said something his mistress would later make him regret, waiting impatiently for her to join him.

          Belle's gaze was warm as she bid farewell to Beth and stepped to his side, surprising him when she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. She could feel his anger slowly dissipating as they walked through the village. "Would you like to tell me what that was all about back there?"

          Rumpelstiltskin snorted. "The woman was grieving for her husband. Completely understandable. But she needs to realize she can't just neglect the care of her child. I simply fed her a hot meal and made sure she had bath and clean clothes … and a puppy to play with," he added sheepishly, refusing to look at her and let her bright smile crack his shell of indifference.

          She glanced down at the tiny Labrador puppy and then smirked up at the mage. "Don't you think you could turn Hovarth back now?" she asked dryly.

          "Is that a command, mistress?"

          "No, merely a request," she said softly, her gaze holding his. She could tell he really didn't want to grant it, preferring the knight in his present state.

          "Very well. Once we pass the threshold of the castle, he will resume his former state. Does this please you?"

          "Yes." She continued to lead him back through the center of the village, stopping every now and then to speak with her people. It was evident how much she was loved, and with his hood drawn close to hide his features, they didn't hesitate to greet her warmly.

          After a while, he pulled her forward from another group of her citizens with a firm grip to her elbow. "You are very much loved by your people, but it should have been your father to visit the widow and tour the village. He is king, and it is his responsibility."

          Belle sighed wearily. "Papa and Uncle Hugh are more worried about the threat of the ogres in the far south right now as they move farther north to worry about the petty responsibilities to the villagers. I do it because I don't want anyone to suffer due to his lack of vision."

          He searched her face as they entered the palace courtyard, looking for signs of dishonesty and treachery. "You are such an odd girl."

          Belle bristled and gnashed her teeth together. "Thank you for that brilliant observation," she hissed, jerking her arm free and hastening her steps to leave him behind.

          He caught up to her in three strides and yanked her back to face him. "It was meant to be a compliment, mistress," he said in a much gentler tone and she visibly relaxed. "You are like no royal I've ever known before and it confounds me. You actually have a great love for your people, putting others before yourself. It's just odd."

          Her eyes were alight with mischief as she grinned up at him. "Who knows? Perhaps I'll start a trend," she quipped. A genuine smile played at his lips for a moment before his cold mask slipped back into place. She gasped in pleasant surprise that she was responsible for the crack in his façade. Before she could remark on it, however, Hovarth crossed the threshold and resumed his knightly stature, his eyes flashing angrily at the sorcerer.

          "Highness," he began, standing firm under Rumpelstiltskin's narrowed glare.

          "Hovarth, thank you for being so patient with us today. I shall see that you are rewarded," Belle said, smiling gently at the knight, diplomatically heading him off before his temper made him say something to spark her servant's ire. He bowed low to her and marched furiously into the castle.

          She didn't like the anger in Rumpelstiltskin's gaze as it settled on her instead of the knight's retreating form. "You should not leave the castle unless I accompany you, mistress. That is why you  _wanted_  me, is it not?"

          He was standing too close. When had he bridged the distance between them, she wondered frantically. She was beginning to feel warm, that same queer feeling returning to her stomach, unnerving her, the same feeling she'd experienced when she'd kissed him. His eyes had lightened to a lovely bronze color and the husky timbre of his voice was a warm caress to her senses. What was wrong with her? She forced herself to look away as she stepped back, ignoring the heat rising in her face.

          "Who …" She had to clear her throat to keep her voice from coming across as a high squeak. "Who better to protect me than you?"

          A satisfied smirk crossed his lips. He took great pleasure in discomfiting his mistress. He brushed an errant curl behind her ear, closing the distance once more. His face was mere inches from hers and he could hear the breath hitch in her chest at his closeness. "Who indeed?" he whispered softly, his breath fanning her face. Her eyes turned the color of cobalt and she swayed unsteadily. He took her hand and led her back through the castle to her rooms pleased he had made her feel something for him and equally confused that he'd felt it too. Maybe he needed to rethink his strategy.

 

*.*.*

 

          "Say again?" he asked, regarding her over the rim of his teacup. "I don't think I heard you right." He couldn't have heard her right. The notion was absolutely preposterous.

          Belle had the nerve to giggle at his blank expression. "I said, you are going to escort me to dinner. I thought I made myself quite clear, Rumpel," she chuckled, stirring her tea idly with a silver spoon. He was going to be shadowing her in his new role as her protector. Eventually, he was going to have to grow comfortable appearing in public and in the presence of her father's court.

          "This is such a bad idea," he complained, ignoring the warmth which spread through him as his shortened name rolled from her tongue.

          "Come on. You know how much my father is going to hate you being there. You should take pleasure in that at least," she said, nearly giddy with mirth.

          His gaze narrowed on her as he sat down next to her on the sofa. "You have a very strange relationship with my former master. Don't you love your papa?"

          Belle's mouth twisted into a grimace. "I do."

          "But?"

          "Sometimes he just … He's sneaky, Rumpel. He's sneaky and untruthful and he twists things to suit his own agenda and I can't stand it that I can't trust him," she hissed, the words spewing from her mouth before she could stop them. "I'm afraid one day he'll turn on me and use me for some nefarious scheme." She brushed at angry tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. "I don’t know, but … is it wrong to think he only pretends to love me? Sometimes … sometimes it's very difficult knowing I am his heir."

          He tipped her face up, one lone finger resting beneath her chin, his gaze intense. "You want me to protect you from  _him_ , don't you, pet?" he asked, his voice whisper-soft. He was finally seeing to the heart of the matter. Despite her protests that she'd taken on the power of the dagger to help him, deep in her heart of hearts she was seeking  _his_  help. Her bravery and condescension in the face of the king now made perfect sense. She wouldn't let him see her vulnerability. No, she saved her true self for him; she was beginning to trust him to see this side of her. Damnit, he didn't want her trust or her friendship. He didn't want to care for her. He felt another crack in his chest.

          Her lower lip quivered as she tried to be brave. "I don't want you to hurt him, but yes … I do want you to keep me safe. He's not even a fair king. If he was, I wouldn't have to worry about people using me as a bargaining chip to have him bend to their wishes. I'm so tired of being used as a pawn."

          "I won't let him harm you, Belle," he swore, unintentionally letting her name slip from his lips. His hatred for his former master intensified as he witnessed the fear in her cerulean orbs. Whatever issues he had with his mistress, she was his to protect and he wouldn't let that evil monarch lay one finger on her. He'd happily drop him in the middle of a nest of ogres and let them do the dirty work for him.  _Loophole!_

          Belle intruded on his thoughts by laying her head on his shoulder. She sighed deeply and closed her eyes, relaxing for the first time in his presence. "Thank you, Rumpel."

          He grimaced as he stared down at the top of her head. Although he was panicking on the inside, he remained perfectly still so as not to dislodge her from his shoulder. He felt strange, unable to conjure a name for what he was feeling. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have the little princess be his mistress, he thought and immediately cursed himself for daring to let her under his skin. The next thing she'd try to burrow her way into what was left of his heart.

 

*.*.*

 

          "What is  _he_  doing here?" Maurice asked Belle as she settled next to him at the U-shaped table in the center of the dining hall. The imp remained a mere step behind the princess, clothed entirely in black, minus the cloak. Belle had objected to him hiding his face. She was proud to have him at her side, treating him more as a friend than as her slave, and she wanted everyone to know he belonged to her. Hopefully, his presence would keep the sycophants of the court at bay.

          "Good evening, Papa. How are you?" she asked, taking her seat and motioning Rumpelstiltskin to sit beside her. She knew it was all the sorcerer could do to hide his glee at being able to dine next to the king and literally rub it in his face that the monarch couldn't send him to the dungeon for his arrogance.

          "Belle, he cannot dine at the table with us. It's just not done!" he hissed furiously.

          Belle's bright smile never faltered as she picked through the offerings spread out on the table before them. She ignored her father and filled a plate with roasted boar, boiled new potatoes and cabbage and set it before Rumpelstiltskin who nodded approvingly. He reached to his right and snatched a plate of rolls from a visiting duke and passed it to Belle, so she could place one on each of their plates. The duke looked appalled and Belle had to hide her smirk behind her napkin.

          Finally, she turned back to her father. "Papa, we have already discussed this. Rumpelstiltskin is my protector. If he had been with me a few days ago, I never would have been abducted by King Edward." She raised her chin stubbornly and glared at him. "He goes where I go, he eats where I eat and there's nothing you can do about it. You should rest easy knowing no one will be able to harm me."

          "But, Belle darling …"

          "Get used to it, Papa," she said as she picked up the decanter of wine and poured some into Rumpelstiltskin's goblet.

          The Dark One leaned over to whisper in her ear. "You shouldn't be serving me, pet. It's unseemly for a princess to serve her slave."

          His warm breath tickled her ear, sending gooseflesh spreading pleasantly along her skin. Tenderness dominated her features as she turned to address him, unmindful and uncaring if anyone overheard her. "I'm not serving my slave, Rumpel. I'm serving my friend."

          Her father groaned and dropped his head into his hand. She ignored him and picked up her fork to begin her meal, happy the mage didn't shy away from her conversation. He was the perfect dinner companion, sharing his attention with her as his eyes flitted about the room, resting now and then on people who stared too long at them. His return stare usually made the offenders glance away quickly.

          Belle turned her gaze to the many desserts which had just been placed on the table and chose a peach tart to put on his plate, smiling at his obvious delight. "These are your favorite, are they not?"

          "How did …"

          She cut him off with a laugh. "I remembered when you rescued me you mentioned something about me looking at you like a peach tart. It was a simple deduction," she told him merrily. “I sent a request to the kitchens this afternoon.”

          "Well done, mistress," he commended, gracing her with a half-moon smile and taking a bite. He was half done with the treat when he felt a shiver run down his spine. He glanced sharply at her, realizing it was her fear which had been transmitted to him. He took her cold hand in his under the table, drawing her frightened gaze to his and leaning close to ask, "What is it? You can't hide your fear from me, pet. What has you so fearful?"

          "Father Adrian of the Temple of Eternal Light. To your left," she whispered, trying to point him out without having to glance in his direction. "Can we just return to my chamber? Please."

          Rumpelstiltskin rose and pulled out her chair, waiting patiently as she said goodnight to her father. Maurice reminded her of her obligation to meet with him in the morning to discuss the preparations for her birthday ball, detaining her long enough for the cleric to reach their side. He was going to make her explain her odd reaction to the cleric when he had her alone, regardless of her feelings. He wouldn't have his strong, brave mistress cowering in fear over this toad.

          "Highness, so good to see you've been returned safely to us," the father intoned, taking her hand and bowing low over it. She shuddered in disgust.

"Father," she acknowledged, trying to maintain her calm. "If you would be so good as to excuse me, I was just going to retire for the evening."

          Rumpelstiltskin wanted to wrap his arm about her waist and pull her back into his chest to disappear into a haze of purple smoke, but he was afraid she'd strongly object to such a display and quelled the urge. The cleric stared blankly at him over her shoulder, but his disapproval was almost tangible in the growing tension.

          Finally, he released her hand with a nod and let them pass. By the time they reached the corridor, she was trembling and pale. He took the step separating them and lifted her in his arms, magicking them to their bedchamber and startling Clara as she turned down the bed and laid out a fresh nightgown for Belle.

          "Good heavens, you gave me a fright!" she shrieked at him.

          Rumpelstiltskin had the decency to look abashed as he set Belle on her feet, keeping his hands about her waist to steady her. "Tea for my mistress, Clara," he ordered, sending the maid off to give them some privacy.

          “Why are you being so n-nice,” she asked suspiciously, unable to quell the shiver which tripped up her spine.

          He ignored her question. "Why are you so frightened?" he asked as soon as the maid closed the door behind her. Her hands were fisted on his dragon-hide coat and her trembling was making her teeth chatter. He rubbed his hands briskly along her upper arms, trying to warm her before giving up and wrapping his arms around her, pressing her tightly to his chest.

          "That man, posing as a man of God, is nothing but evil," she whispered into his neck. "My father trusts him for some reason, but I know what he truly is. I …"

          He stiffened in anger as a thought occurred to him. "Did he hurt you, Belle?" He could feel the darkness rising in him, the beast fighting to be free to rip and tear. He felt her shudder in his arms and it made the blood freeze in his veins waiting for her answer.

          "No, Rumpel. But I've seen him hurt others. Others he didn't think were pure or pious enough. I've seen what the order can do, and I can't seem to be in his presence without  _feeling_  his evil," she mumbled lowly, afraid as she freed her hands, trapped against his chest, and slipped them around his waist.

          "There is entirely too much angst and intrigue in this kingdom."

          She chuckled mirthlessly against his neck, finding comfort in his embrace and letting her trembling subside. "You have no idea. Just wait until my birthday ball."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Not my fav chapter in this fic, but I wanted to show a softer side of our Dark One. Even after such a long period of captivity, he still remembers his love for the little ones. They, in turn, don’t judge him. Hope you enjoyed it!


	6. FEELINGS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains adult content, and may seem a little dub/con to some. Reader discretion is advised.

          Belle rolled over in the massive expanse of her bed and snuffled softly into her pillow, somewhere in that state between sleep and wakefulness. Her sleep-heavy eyes fluttered open unwillingly as the noise came to her again, unfamiliar and a bit odd. She closed her eyes again and burrowed deeper under the covers, ignoring it. She sat bolt upright as she heard it again, searching the shadows for the source.

          Her protector shifted restlessly on his bunk in his sleep and she realized it had been his voice which had disturbed her as he called out into the darkness. She watched him, her brow furrowing into a frown as she listened. The great Dark One, all-powerful and cynical to a fault while awake, showed vulnerability in sleep. His nightmare was getting worse, his limbs tangling in the blankets covering his wiry frame as he thrashed against some unseen demon.

          Belle slipped from her bed and padded silently to the curtain separating her bedchamber from his, her fingers twisting in indecision as she hesitated, her lower lip clamped between her teeth. The idea of invading his personal space, especially now that he was abed, didn't sit well with her. She reminded herself of the dagger and the control she had over him, the knowledge that she could stop him from inadvertently hurting her urging her to his side.

          She placed her hand tentatively to his shoulder, shaking gently, her other hand smoothing the hair away from his eyes and then trailing along his jaw. His grey-gold skin was surprisingly smooth to the touch. He'd stopped her from touching him before they'd fled Milhorn and her curiosity had only increased over the past few days, a curiosity which was now appeased. "Rumpel. Rumpel, wake up, you're having a nightmare," she said softly, not wanting to startle him. His moods were so mercurial, and she didn't know how he would react coming awake from a violent dream.

          "Rumpel, please … wake up." She cupped his face in her hands, the pads of her thumbs smoothing gently over his skin. "Rumpelstiltskin …"

          He grabbed her wrists painfully and sat up, his eyes wide and unfocused, his face inches from hers. She winced and shrank away from him, unable to protect herself if he lashed out at her. "Mistress," he whispered in recognition, his breath fanning hotly against her face as awareness crept into his gaze. He gentled his grip on her wrists, but did not let go, his thumbs caressing the reddening skin. "What are you doing in here?"

          Belle felt the tension ease from her body as he rested his brow against hers, only to have something else entirely take hold of her, heat coiling in her belly and making it difficult to breathe. "I … um … you were having a nightmare … and I was trying to wake you," she explained, her voice raspy from sleep. "Are you alright?"

          The thrill of anticipation shuddered down his spine as he realized just how inappropriate it was for his virginal mistress, clad only in a silk nightgown, to be sitting on his bed comforting him. And to be honest, he couldn't find it in himself to care. She was his by her own design and he was more than willing to press his advantage. He released her wrists to trail his hands along her arms to rest lightly on her shoulders. He rubbed his cheek against hers, never touching her with his lips as his skin ghosted over hers in the lightest of caresses until he was able rest against the crook of her neck where it met her shoulder. He smiled against her skin as she moaned low in her throat, reveling in the shiver which shook her petite form, delighted he'd caused it.

          "Lie down with me, mistress," he whispered against the shell of her ear, sending a fresh wave of gooseflesh dancing across her skin. Oh, he was so wrong to ask it of her, but he needed the contact she'd initiated when she'd come to him, contact she wasn't entirely opposed to.

          It was only then that Belle realized she was in danger of crossing a very thin line into danger. Her hands had trailed up his very bare chest to slip around his neck, her fingertips curling into the hair at the nape of his neck. She'd never seen a bare male chest before, much less been pressed tightly against one. Alarm bells were clanging loudly in her ears, warning her she shouldn't be there with him, that she should retreat to her own chamber.

          "I … I shouldn't. I …" she stammered as his hands traveled across her shoulder blades and down her back to settle on her hips, pulling her closer.

          "Shh. Don't be afraid, little Belle. Share your warmth with me," he crooned, his breath raising the hair at her nape. It felt as though a thousand sparks of electricity were firing her blood and drawing her under his spell. "Just lie with me, mistress. Nothing more."

          "You've bespelled me," she murmured, her heart feeling as though it were about to take flight from her chest, her eyes unfocused with growing desire.

          He twirled a lock of her hair around his finger and tugged, bringing her lips a scant inch away from his. "No, pet. That's against the rules."

          She trembled in his arms, more than a little excited at the prospect of sleeping in his arms. He slowly lowered himself back against his pillows, settling her against his chest, his eyes glowing a soft amber in the darkness, so warm, so inviting and she felt herself relax into him. "J-Just to sleep?"

          He pressed his cheek to hers and breathed into her hair. "Just to sleep, pet. Lie with me." He smiled with satisfaction as he felt her lift her legs onto the bed next to him and stretch out against his side, relishing the small victory he'd won over her iron will. He slipped one arm around her shoulders and the other around her waist, pulling her slightly beneath him, settling his leg between her thighs where her nightgown had ridden up to allow him access. He tucked her head under his chin, his nose buried in the hair at her crown, the scent of her enveloping him and bringing him peace for the first time in centuries.

          Belle sighed contentedly against his crown, her hand resting tentatively on his hip, just at the waistband of his cotton sleeping pants, and she let out a relieved breath he’d had the sense of propriety to wear _something_ to sleep in.  She was sure when her senses returned, she would castigate herself for making such a bold move as to sleep in his bed.  But it was just to sleep. He’d assured her of such.

          So, why was she lying there in his arms, wishing for so much more?  She listened as his breathing evened out and became restful, yawning widely as his arms tightened around her, as if he were afraid she’d leave him.  She smiled and burrowed deeper against him, her arm slipping from his hip to stroke his back soothingly until sleep claimed her.       

 

*.*.*

 

          It took a moment for Rumpelstiltskin's sleep-addled brain to snap to awareness, the scent of roses assailing his nose. He knew instinctively his pillow should  _not_  smell like roses, nor should it be so firm beneath his face. He quirked a brow as his eyes fluttered open, his long lashes brushing softly against Belle's skin. His lips curved into a wolfish grin as he realized his was lying against his mistress, his face pressed into the valley between her breasts.

          He remained perfectly still until he could take stock of his limbs and  _hers_. Her right leg was thrown over his hip, his thigh pressed against the apex of her thighs, her arms wrapped around his head, hands fisted in his hair and his own arms wrapped around her back, her long locks wound around his fingers.  _What a delicious predicament for my little mistress. Still sound asleep and at my mercy._  It was all he could do to contain his glee.

          Heat unfurled in his loins as he hardened further against her hip. So soft, so warm in his arms. It was difficult to restrain his arms from tightening around her as he nuzzled his face against her tantalizing flesh, his tongue darting out to taste her. It would be so easy to spread her out beneath him and sink into her hot folds, so easy to slake his lust in the flesh of his mistress.

          So, what was holding him back? Surely not the fact she'd come to him in the night to offer comfort and warmth, he assured himself. Or was it? Why did he want to hold her safe in his arms instead of taking what she unknowingly offered? This was not what he'd originally intended, damnit! But she felt so good, so _right_ in his embrace, like she'd been made with him in mind. Could the Gods really be so cruel as to gift him with this woman and have her reject him? He couldn't see his precious mistress falling in love with a monster, after all. Would it be so bad to indulge just a bit?

          This was such a bad idea, he thought as he used his teeth to pull the silk bodice away from her breast, baring it to his hungry gaze. His lips and tongue trailed along the swell of her breast in a hot path before closing over the taut nipple, sucking it gently into the blazing recesses of his mouth. A really bad idea, but he didn't care anymore. He wanted her, needed the comfort only she could provide as her fingers tightened in his hair and her hips bucked against his thigh.

          She was still under the pull of sleep, responding to him unconsciously and he pressed his advantage, toying with her until she moaned deeply in pleasure. His teeth scraped over her nipple and she whimpered, the sound sending a shiver of delight through his fevered flesh. His hand trailed over her silk-clad belly and squeezed her hip, his nails penetrating the thin fabric and grazing her skin.

          His hand caressed her from hip to knee and back again as he felt her snap to wakefulness, but he didn't stop his ministrations. Her breath came in short pants as pleasure coursed through her veins, her heart beating a rapid tempo of his name against her ribs. Her eyes, dark with desire, flew open and met his gaze, the sight of him watching her face as he did wicked things to her flesh, making her want him all the more. The arm holding her against him tightened as she squirmed. His lips left her breast to drift along her collarbone, his tongue dipping into the hollow of her throat as he moved up to nip her ear with his teeth, his hand brushing lightly over the curls which hid her womanhood from his view.

          "Good morning, my mistress," he breathed hotly against her ear. "Did you sleep well?" She cried out as he slipped a lone finger along her slit to delve deep into her folds, a growl rumbling deep in his chest when he felt how tight and wet she was.

          Her nails scored the flesh of his shoulders as she fought against the spikes of heat which seemed to radiate from his hand. "Y-You promised we would just sleep, R-Rumpel," she gasped, nearly incoherent in her desire.

          His digit moved in slow thrusts as she stretched around him, his thumb circling lazily around her hidden bundle of nerves and drawing another long moan from her delicate throat. "That was last night, pet. You didn't say I couldn't touch you this morning." Oh, how he loved to find a loophole, especially one offering such pleasure. He pressed his lips to a particularly sensitive spot behind her ear and sucked gently, marking her as his. "Don't you like what I'm doing to you? Doesn't it feel good?" He added another finger, stretching her, curling his fingers to thrust against that certain sensitive spot which had her writhing and keening against him, her hip rubbing against his length and destroying his control. "Do you want me to stop, mistress?" he asked, his voice hoarse with passion, stilling his hand for just the barest moment.

          "No!" she wailed against his neck, biting down to hold back her scream. His fingers thrusted into her faster, his thumb pressed tightly to her clit as felt her come apart around his fingers. He pulled her beneath him and pressed his cloth covered erection to her core, thrusting against her, taking her lips in a bruising kiss, plundering the sweet honeyed recesses of her mouth as he found his own release.

          He rolled to her side to relieve her of his weight and collapsed against the pillows. She sat up after a moment and stared at him, color blazing in her cheeks, her eyes wide with awe. She slapped him in the center of his chest … hard. "What the  _hell_  was that?!"

          The Dark One cracked open one eye to regard her lazily. "That, my pet, is what happens when you crawl into bed with a monster."

          Belle drew back as if he'd slapped her. It probably wouldn't have hurt any less. "Bastard," she hissed, her eyes flashing angrily. Her heart was still fluttering like a sick bird and she burned from his touch. How could he be so callous after what they'd just shared? "Did we … did you …" she couldn't find the words to ask him what she really needed to know.

          "No," he said flatly, raising his arm to drape over his eyes, suddenly exhausted. "Your maidenhead is still intact."

          She didn't say anything to that, rising from the bed to return to her own chamber. She didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. Before she could escape, his hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist, setting her off balance. She landed across his chest, a whoosh of air escaping her lungs. "Let go."

          Her tone was commanding and left him with no other choice but to obey. "Why are you so upset, pet? You have a slave at your beck and call. Why not take advantage and enjoy what you can find in my arms?" he asked gently only to ruin the effect by waggling his brows lasciviously. He giggled shrilly as she continued to glare at him. "Just know this, my mistress. Next time you crawl into my bed, I will have you … all of you. And when I do, it will be my name you scream when you find your pleasure. It won't matter who has you afterwards, pet. It will be my touch you burn for, my lips on yours that you crave and only me you wish to have buried deep inside you."

          Belle clamped her teeth together, refusing to let him bait her into an argument as she rose once more and stalked angrily into her bedchamber to gather fresh clothes to don after her bath. How could he think she would use him in that way? To use him as a willing bed slave? It showed just how little he really thought of her. She trembled, the feel of his hands on her skin, his taste, his husky whisper filling her ears refusing to leave her. His words burned into her like a brand and she prayed he wasn't right. She couldn't let him have her. Only her husband had a right to her body, her heart and her soul. Then why was it so tempting to let her slave fill that role?

 

*.*.*

 

          Rumpelstiltskin was watching her through the mirror as she sat at her vanity while Clara clucked disapprovingly, brushing out Belle's long chestnut tresses. He cursed softly under his breath as he noted the thread had knotted once again under his deft fingers. It was all her fault he couldn't concentrate on his task, a task which was usually soothing in its repetitiveness. She was wearing what seemed like a permanent blush and she refused to speak to him. His mistress, the bane of his existence, the woman who never ceased prattling, wasn't speaking to him. Perhaps he'd struck a nerve with his parting shot earlier.

          "Leave her hair down today, Miss Clara, if you please," he said, his voice breaking through Belle's thoughts and deepening her blush. She looked like she'd been out in the sun too long. "Or braid it so it falls over her left shoulder." He waited until the maid was done with her task and had quietly left the room before rising from his wheel to approach his mistress, resting his hand on her shoulder. She tensed beneath his fingers and avoided his gaze.

          "You marked me," she accused bluntly.

          "Aye, I did, pet. You're mine after all," he said gently, inspecting her to make certain the bite was covered completely by her thick braid.

          Belle peeked at him from beneath her heavy fringe of lashes and took a deep resigned breath. "So … you are mine and I am yours? Is that what you're going with?" she asked, trying to infuse courage - she didn't feel - into her tone. She was unwilling to let him see how much this new situation between them affected her. The more she dwelled upon his words, the more she was unable to deny the desire she felt for him.

          His fingers skated across her nape, raising gooseflesh along her skin. "You cannot order me not to want you, pet. But I meant what I said. I will not touch you unless  _you_ come to  _me._ " He leaned forward and skimmed his nose over her bare shoulder, inhaling deeply. “And, mistress, I assure you … you won’t have to make it a command.”

          Belle's eyes narrowed on him. It was so like him to put the decision off on her. "Deal," she gritted out, stony-faced. He nodded in agreement, the word burning into his skin like acid and challenging him to make her change her mind. Never before had he made a deal which didn't carry to his favor and he wasn't about to start now.

          He bowed low to her, a knowing smirk curving his lips as he offered her his arm. "Shall I escort you to breakfast, mistress? I believe your father wanted to speak to you about the ball, did he not?"

          Belle groaned as she rose from her vanity and linked her arm with his, steering him toward the door. "I'd rather eat live eels than have him moan and groan over the time I spend in your presence. Now I'll have to listen to him prattle on about the ball and who to invite and gods forbid … all the eligible suitors he knows who would make an advantageous match for me."

          The beast roared in protest. Suitors?  _Over my dead rotted corpse._

 

*.*.*

 

 _What. The. Fuck. Is wrong with me?_ he lamented morosely as he sat next to his mistress at the dining table once more, picking his teeth just to annoy the king, one leg thrown over the arm of his chair. Maurice glared at him over Belle's shoulder, no doubt wishing he could plunge the dagger into the imp's heart. It didn't help matters that he wasn't able to take his eyes from her, images of her nearly naked loveliness dancing across his mind's eye and leaving him wanting and hard.

          It had been a lovely plan, although executed before he would have liked. It would have been perfect to gain her trust, befriend her and then seduce her into giving him the dagger. He hadn't counted on his own lust. She had been slowly wearing away at him for days, her kindnesses, the light which showed clearly in her eyes, the love she had for others and mostly the way she treated him. She treated him as if he were worth something, something she cherished.  _I am so screwed!_

          "You are not bringing that  _thing_  to your ball, Belle!" Maurice bellowed, rising to his feet and pointing a finger right in her face.

          Belle rested her hand against Rumpelstiltskin's arm when she heard the growl begin in his chest, warning of the violence about to be set forth upon her father. "Papa," she said with an exasperated sigh. "Rumpelstiltskin  _will_  be there to protect me. If you are so worried he will upset the guests, simply cancel the ball."

          "I most certainly will not, my girl. You've had a ball every year since your thirteenth and this year will be no different," the king huffed indignantly, dropping back into his seat.

          Belle pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling the pressure building behind her eyes. "Compromise. Let's make it a masque, hmm? That way everyone wins," she suggested.

          "Belle …"

          "Papa …" she intoned in the same whine he'd adopted.

          Rumpelstiltskin snickered over her shoulder. He was beginning to enjoy these little plays of power she had with her father. She was seemingly a lot smarter than the monarch and the imp admired her for her wit … among other things.

          "Fine, my girl. A masque it will be. Just make sure he has as little interaction with our guests as possible," Maurice insisted.

          "If only I could have as little interaction with our guests as possible," she mumbled under her breath as she rose from the table.

          "Where are you going? We're not done."

          "Yes, Papa, we are. I don't care about the food, or the flowers, or the guests as long as my dearest friends, Snow and Aurora, are invited. I will leave everything in your very capable hands. This ball is being held to celebrate my birthday, but we are well aware this is all. About. You." She tapped his nose affectionately with her finger after each word. She groaned as he pulled her back down to her seat.

          "Belle, you will one day be queen. When are you going to start acting like one?" he asked, his ire rising at her lack of desire to be his heir.

          Belle rolled her eyes and fought for calm. "And when are you going to realize I don't want to be queen. I want my own life. I want true love. I don't want to be used by my advisors, captive in my own castle and used as a brood mare to produce the next heir to the throne."

          Rumpelstiltskin's brows disappeared in his hairline.  _So, now she doesn't wish to be queen?_  More surprises about his little mistress. She was glaring at her father; their heated debate being observed openly by the court. She smoothed her hands over the skirt of her lavender frock and pasted her princess mask back in place.

          The color in Maurice's face returned to a healthy level as he lifted his goblet to take a drink. He set it back on the table before turning to her once again. "We've had this discussion before, daughter. Life is not as simple as one of your books. You are my heir and that will not change."

          "You're just being stubborn, Papa. You could name Uncle Hugh as your heir, have him marry and produce an heir of his own instead of laying this burden on my shoulders." She pushed away from the table and set off at a brisk pace for the library, leaving Rumpelstiltskin to follow in her wake.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I, for one, happen to love this chapter. It reminds me of the novels I grew up reading (bodice rippers). It’s what I like, and I apologize for anyone I may have offended, but this is a classic example of what I like to write. Thank y’all so very much for reading! *hugs*


	7. JEALOUSY

 

 _Click … click … click … ping!_  Belle's eye twitched as she tried to concentrate on the words staring up at her from the page of her book. It wasn't bad enough Rumpelstiltskin was pacing the confines of the library. No, he had to pace  _and_  click his fingernails together. She could practically hear the wheels in his head grinding together. Her concentration was so shot, she'd read the last paragraph four times.  _Click … click … click_. With an impatience very seldom seen, she slammed the book closed and set it beside her, running a hand over her face and pinching the bridge of her nose.  _Click … click … click._  "Gods! Sit down!"

          He dropped like a stone to the rug, a fierce snarl curling his lips away from his teeth, his obsidian eyes flashing with fury. She was instantly remorseful, realizing too late she'd used the thrall of the dagger against him.

          "Oh, I … I'm sorry … I didn't mean," she stammered, her teeth worrying her lower lip. "Please, I meant for you to sit beside me." She patted the seat next to her and smiled hesitantly.

          He rose from the floor and moved to her side, plopping onto the cushion, his hip pressing into hers. He knew he was invading her personal space, but he didn't care. He had decided to use whatever advantage he could to be close to her. One thing their nocturnal activities had proved to him was that he enjoyed her touch, he enjoyed the fact she wasn't afraid to touch him in return. She wasn't afraid of the monster and it pleased him much more than it should. She blushed prettily, and he had to fight back a satisfied smirk.

          "Won't you tell me what has you so agitated?" she asked, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap.

          He decided to go for honesty, knowing instinctively she would ferret out any untruths which might spew from his serpent's tongue. "You, mistress. Always you."

          Her lips parted in surprise. "What? Why?"

          His brow furrowed in irritation. "Because, pet, you have an endless array of possibilities at your disposal and you choose to sit in this dank, dusty, dreary library all day. Not that I have anything against you wanting to broaden your mind," he assured her when her eyes began to narrow. "But even your terrace garden or  _our_  bedchamber is better than here."

          "I know. I just find I can hide from Papa in here. And I like the smell of books and parchment and ink. It comforts me," she told him with a sad smile.

          "What happened to you, Belle?" he asked, turning sideways in his seat to trail his fingertips along her braid, rubbing the feathery tail between his thumb and forefinger. "Why do you choose to be alone instead of with other young ladies your age?"

          Belle looked away from his probing gaze, thinking quickly and wondering why his words bothered her so much. "It's not as though I don't have any friends. I had several at school who I grew quite close to. But they have their own families and live so far away. It hasn't been that long, just a little over a year since Snow lost her mother. She's trying very hard to be there for her father. And Aurora, well, she and her mother have their own difficulties. Hopefully, they will both be able to attend my ball and perhaps stay a few days to visit."

          "That doesn't explain why you don't spend time with the ladies in your father's court," he reminded her, tugging the ribbon from the end of her braid. His voice was low and hypnotic as he sought to release her hair from the binding braid, fascinated with the silky texture and the way the light from the high windows brought out hidden highlights of color.

          Belle chuckled wryly at that. "I hate embroidery. I find it tedious and time consuming when there are always more pleasurable pursuits to be found. And Clara always has better gossip than the court ladies, much more reliable, too. I always feel drained after an afternoon in their presence, as though they're sucking the life out of me." She pulled her feet under her and turned so her back rested against his chest to give him better access to her hair as he pulled it free to flow loosely down her back. "I would much rather spend the afternoon in the council room listening to my papa handle business or hear him discuss the problem with the ogres with his knights. Far more interesting."

          He delved his hand into her hair, his nails scraping lightly against her scalp. She sighed happily and relaxed against him. "Then why aren't we in the council room instead of your library?" he asked, slipping his arm around her waist, his hand splaying against her abdomen. He spoke quietly, unwilling to break the spell which had fallen over them.

          "It was a concession I had to make to have you. Papa doesn't trust you and refuses to allow me into the council room if I have you with me. Since I've made it clear to him you will be with me at all times, he banished me from his meetings," she huffed indignantly.

          He rested his chin upon her shoulder, his eyes lighting with mischief, leaving them a warm bronze. "And what would you grant me if I could get you back into that room with none the wiser?" he asked teasingly, the imp shining through his ever-present mask of indifference.

          Belle turned her head sharply, her lips brushing his ever so softly before she jerked away and flushed with embarrassment. His eyes warmed to a brilliant shade of amber as they dropped to her mouth. "One day, free to do as I wish away from the castle?  _Anything_  I wish," he murmured huskily, his breath fanning against her face in a warm caress.

          He had no idea the temptation he was presenting to her. She had missed being privy to her father's many machinations and would do just about anything to once again attend those meetings. But to give him so much freedom? A number of 'what if's' whirled through her mind, each one direr than the last. She chewed her lip in indecision for several moments, lost in thought before coming up with an alternative.

          "All rules previously set forth still apply … including our deal from this morning," she stated firmly. "And I get to go with you."

          There was that bold assertiveness he had come to admire. She was nearly as good at making deals as he was. "No maiming, no killing, no touching unless you ask. Yes, I remember. You will abide by my rules while we are away from Avonlea?" he asked, searching her face.

          "Yes," she promised, nodding her head vigorously at the thought of a day away from the castle.

          "There will be no interfering on any deals I may make?"

          "No interference. Got it."

          "You will obey my every command?"

          Here she hesitated, suddenly unsure if she should agree to  _that_. "Every command within reason," she insisted. "I don't want you to expect me to obey if you command me to strip in the middle of a village, for instance."

          His mouth dropped open in mock horror at the mere suggestion before ruining it with a lascivious waggle of his brows. "I would never!"

          "Of course, not," she giggled. "You're such an upstanding member of the kingdom, why should I ever think you'd do such a thing," she teased, enjoying the easy camaraderie she was beginning to share with him. Almost as though they'd crossed that fine line into a tentative friendship.

          His gaze was intense as he asked, "So, pet, do we have a deal?"

          "Deal."

          His arm tightened around her waist to stop her from rising. "Ah, ah, ah, pet. Not so fast. You didn't seal the bargain," he said, rubbing his cheek against hers like a cat seeking affection.

          She ignored the fire which coursed through her veins to leave her nerve endings raw with need and thrust her hand out to shake his. He shook his head with a dubious quirk of his brow. "What do you want, Rumpelstiltskin?" she asked, his name almost a purr as it rolled off her tongue.

          "I  _want_  you to seal our bargain with a kiss.  _You_  have to kiss  _me_  as per our previous agreement."

          "But … But you've been touching me for the past half hour and I didn't come to you. Why should a kiss be any different?" she asked querulously.

          He laughed, that genuine laugh which did funny things to her insides. "Because, dearie, I haven't touched you  _inappropriately_. Or what you would deem inappropriate."

          Belle thought of everything which had transpired and frowned when she realized he was right. His hand in her hair, his arm around her waist, and his chin resting on her shoulder wouldn't be misconstrued if he were merely the friend she already considered him. _Damn!_ He brought new meaning to the word _technicality_. She knew he wouldn't go back on his word. He was too bloody stubborn.

          "Alright," she agreed. A chance to spy on her father and his council on top of an entire day away from the castle was just too much temptation to merely lay at the wayside because of a simple kiss, wasn't it?

          His fingers drummed impatiently against her hip. "I'm waiting, dearie. Or perhaps you've changed your mind?"

          This had the beginnings of so many things which could go badly, she thought as she turned in his arms to face him. She was already feeling light-headed with desire and heat was spreading through her at an alarming rate, visions of that morning in his bed flitting through her mind. And he knew it because – she suspected as she met his eyes, dark and heavily-lidded - he was feeling the same thing. Her breath caught in her chest as she cupped his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his, brushing softly.

          He grinned against her lips. "Come on, pet, surely you can do better than that," he taunted.

          Belle ducked her head, her face flaming. "I'm sorry I don't have experience with this sort of thing," she hissed, her feelings bruised just a bit by his barb. When she finally met his gaze, it was heated, the fire smoldering in eyes burning her with their intensity.

          His fingers trailed along the line of her jaw, not daring to do more because of their agreement. "Ask me, Belle. Let me show you," he breathed softly as he inched ever closer.

          "Kiss me." She didn't ask, she commanded, and he had no choice but to obey. He  _wanted_  to obey as he ran his tongue along the seam of her lips, begging her to allow him entrance to the honeyed recesses of her mouth. He needed to taste her, to claim her and show her it was only her servant, her slave, who could bring her such pleasure. His lips didn't dominate her as they had that morning. They molded to hers as his tongue tangled with hers, drawing a deep moan from her throat as her hands fisted in his hair. His teeth nibbled at her bottom lip much as hers had done earlier as she'd drawn his gaze to her mouth over and over again. She pressed herself against him, her breasts brushing against his chest and it was all he could do to fight the urge to pull her closer. That wasn't what she'd asked for. This was a kiss, nothing more, and he poured every ounce of feeling he had into it until she was gasping and writhing in his arms.

          He grew painfully hard for her and realized leather was  _not_  his friend as he pulled his lips away from hers and rested his brow against her own. Her eyes were the color of deep cobalt, glowing with desire as she struggled to catch her breath, her hands loosening their grip on his hair.

          "You don't kiss, you devour," she gasped, waiting for her heartbeat to return to a normal rhythm.

          "And you turn a simple kiss into a seduction, mistress," he groaned, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear. He turned her once again in his arms so her back pressed against his chest. "Shall we go?"

          She nodded shakily and nestled back into his embrace. "Yes. I hope we haven't missed too much."

          "Rules," he began, covering her mouth with his hand when she wanted to protest. "I will be the only person who can see you or hear you, but you will have to be perfectly still."

          "Why?"

          "You'll see." And with a maniacal giggle, they vanished, leaving behind a tell-tale cloud of violet smoke.

 

*.*.*

 

          Rumpelstiltskin was very thankful they could neither be seen nor heard as Belle's shriek of terror reverberated in his ears, causing him to wince from the pain. "Mistress," he crooned softly against her ear as he pulled her back against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Her nails were digging painfully into his forearms through the silk sleeves which covered them. "It's alright, pet. Calm down."

          "I'm afraid of heights! Why didn't you tell me we were going to … Oh, Gods, I feel dizzy," she moaned hysterically as she clung to him for dear life.

          "Trust me, pet. I'm not going to drop you," he promised as he settled more comfortably against the wall and curled himself protectively around her. They were sitting on a rafter beam which ran the length of the ceiling in the council room, sheltered in a cocoon of magic which protected them from the occupants in the large room. It wasn't his fault his mistress had neglected to tell him of her fear. He pulled his feet up to rest beneath her bent knees and wrapped the folds of his cloak around her. She wasn't going anywhere without him and he had no immediate plans to fall to his death.

          Belle's trembling calmed slowly, and she hazarded a glance at the assemblage below. "I can't hear what they're saying," she complained.

          "Well if your teeth would stop chattering, you would be able to hear. I told you there was nothing to fear, dearie," he said dryly, twirling a stray curl around his finger. He inhaled deeply, and her scent curled around him as he felt the tension leave his body. He hadn't had this much fun in decades. He felt he could relate to her loneliness because he, too, shared it. He'd been alone too long and his unwillingness to accept his mistress was beginning to desert him. Why had he let her comfort him last night? Another act of kindness to claw her way under his skin. "Are you feeling better?" he asked, a frown marring his impish features, wondering why he cared.

          She nodded absently, her concentration far below as she watched her father listen to the needs of several villagers and send them away with solemn promises to help. It warmed her heart to see he was in a charitable mood. He next got down to business, opening the strategy meeting with his knights and she so wanted to offer her advice about their difficulties with the ogres should they advance farther north. Her father was well versed in the art of war and strategy, but she wanted to help. Her eyes grew heavy as she rested against her servant, burrowed in the warmth of his body and wrapped snugly in his cloak.

          She still didn't know what she was going to do with him. She wanted so badly to grant him his freedom, but at the same time, she didn't want to lose the friendship developing between them. He made her feel safe. She could share things with him and he didn't think her unbalanced. He made her feel things she'd never experienced before. He didn't frighten her as he did so many others and she realized - in a way - they were very much alike. In time, she felt as though she could love him, and it scared the hell out of her. Her father would never accept him, and he could never be considered as her consort. The clerics …

          Rumpelstiltskin felt her stiffen in his arms just before her trembling returned. She pulled his cloak higher over her face until only her eyes and the top of her head were visible, as if she were afraid they would be seen. He looked below, his body snapping to awareness to see what had frightened his mistress. A low rumble started in his chest, the growl clawing from his throat as he spied the cleric, Father Adrian, approach the king's side. He smoothed his hand over her hair, crooning softly in her ear and easing her fears. "Shh, pet, it's alright. I won't let anyone hurt you." It made him wonder why she was so afraid of the man and what he had done to make her fear him so. It must have been bad for her staunch courage to desert her.

          "What can I do for you, Father Adrian," Maurice asked wearily, his voice drifting to the pair on the beam with amazing clarity. Rumpelstiltskin leaned forward to watch, his arms tightening securely around his mistress.

          The father smiled, an oily calculating gesture of sympathy, at the king. "My liege, it has come to our attention your daughter has been seen in the presence of a very dark sorcerer."

          Maurice frowned at the man. "Of course, it's come to your attention. You saw her with him at dinner last night."

          Adrian ground his teeth together and forced a chuckle at the king's quip. "Yes, Majesty, but at the time I wasn't aware of his identity."

          "Not to worry, father. He is in thrall to my daughter and has been appointed as her protector. We no longer have to worry about her being used against us with him as her guard," Maurice assured him amidst gnashing teeth.

          Adrian adopted a worried look for the king's benefit. "I understand, majesty, but what if he bewitches her and she falls under  _his_  thrall. If he is as all-powerful as they say, I believe it to be a very real possibility. If that happens, you will never find a consort for her. Not after she's been tainted."

          Belle clutched anxiously at Rumpelstiltskin's cloak, terror rolling off her petite frame in waves. She was near hysterical and he was having trouble containing her within the circle of his arms.

          "Have you no faith in our princess? She's the strongest-willed woman in the kingdom, not to mention brilliant and clever. She can hold her own against any man," Maurice protested, feeling he needed to come to Belle's defense despite his own misgivings on the matter.

          "But, alas, the Dark One isn't a man, is he?" Adrian asked rhetorically, not really expecting the king to answer. "I think it would behoove the kingdom if perhaps you chose a husband for her with all haste. Surely, her consort would stand a better chance of controlling the dark one than our fair princess."

          Belle watched in horror as her father remained silent, letting the cleric's words sink deeply under his skin for consideration. No! No, no, no, no. He wouldn't do that to her, couldn't do that to her. He'd promised! She'd never be able to find a man in all the realms who would want her. They would find out about her slave and they would only want to marry her for the power they would gain.

          "I will think on it, Father Adrian. Thank you for your concern and your council," Maurice said, a frown marring his brow as he left the council chambers.

          Rumpelstiltskin burned with rage as he looked down on the diminutive man, wondering what his motives were in this very dangerous game he was playing. Belle was right to fear such a man. Even with her fortitude, she was no match for the cleric … the head of his order who wielded nearly as much power over the people as the king. He felt another crack in his chest as he looked down at his weeping mistress. His vow to protect her branded itself over his heart, strengthening his resolve. She belonged to him. His woman, his mistress, his  _pet_. No man would break her as long as he lived, as long as he drew breath.

          As for any suitors for her hand? Well, there was fun to be had there.

 

*.*.*

 

          It took him several hours to finally soothe his mistress. He'd returned her to her room and ordered her into a bath. He'd filled her tub with steaming water and rose-scented bubbles, hoping the combination would lull his mistress into a state of calm. She'd balked at first, unrelenting until he'd promised to bathe when she was done with the tub. He'd ground his teeth, snarled and sneered and then relented, even promising to wash his blasted hair. Of course, she'd made it an order and he had no recourse but to obey. That only put him in a foul mood, especially since she'd insisted upon combing his hair again.

          He didn't like that the feel of his mistress's fingers in his hair was rather erotic and destroyed his focus. Still she wouldn't tell him about the cleric. He'd bundled her into a fluffy robe and set her on the sofa before the fire with a text he'd summoned from the library of Alexandria, which she'd been thrilled with, her hands caressing the spine with reverence, and still she'd refused to tell him. She'd become furious when he'd healed the wound on her hand after her bath. Red streaks of infection were beginning to appear at the outer edges of the wound and he refused to let her succumb to such a nasty illness. He'd happily endured the pain the dagger caused at his mistress's displeasure with him.

          Stubborn girl, he'd thought furiously as he’d writhed on the floor at her feet in agony. When he'd told her why he was in pain, she'd been remorseful and sympathetic, soothing him until the pain faded. She was so used to fending for herself and keeping her feelings hidden, she wouldn't open up to him and share the burden of her secrets.

          Rumpelstiltskin now noticed, as he seated her at the table next to her father, how pale she seemed. He decided then and there, he would take her somewhere sunny for their day off together. Perhaps the beach or a lake he knew of in the east which was fed by a waterfall.

          This evening, he filled her plate and cajoled her into eating at least half of what he served. She scolded him for hovering, claiming him to be as worrisome as Clara. He'd given her  _the look_. The king was not pleased this evening. Every time Belle leaned over to speak to Rumpelstiltskin, she laid her hand on his forearm and whispered in his ear. No, the king was nearly livid. It brought the sorcerer no small amount of satisfaction.

          They were nearing the end of the dessert course - and the time they would be able to retire to their chamber - when the great double doors swung open to admit … _him_. The prince to the kingdom to the northwest, the heir to Whitehall. The princeling greeted King Maurice with a deep bow and many platitudes, which caused the imp's stomach to roil and churn.

          "Greetings, your majesty. As I was to pass through your kingdom on my way home from a business venture to the south, I thought it would be a pleasure to meet with you and to see if the rumors were true," he schmoosed.

          "And what rumors are those?" Maurice asked dryly.

          "Why to see if your beautiful princess was as lovely as the rose in bloom, as lovely an enchantress as Luna herself," he postured with an oily smile.

          Belle glanced at Rumpelstiltskin and rolled her eyes, twining her fingers with his under the table and feeling his reassuring squeeze. "How … flattering, your highness," she deadpanned. "And might I have your name to thank you for your kind words?"

          "Prince James of Whitehall, your highness," he said with a dramatic princely bow.

          Rumpelstiltskin ground his teeth in vexation.  _Well. Just. Shit._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Things are sure to get interesting now. Hope you all liked the update. Looking forward to hearing what you think.


	8. SUITORS

 

          Rumpelstiltskin felt his stomach churn with fury as he watched the princeling bow low over Belle's hand and flatter her beauty with platitudes. He gnashed his teeth as he watched Belle offer greetings and invite him to sit next to her father while she herself saw that a room was prepared for his use. The princeling held her hand, brushing his noble lips to her knuckles and the sorcerer wanted to break it off and stick it … well, one could guess where he wanted to stick it.

          The princeling asked if he might be able to join her for breakfast in the morning and the imp growled. What was he to expect, really? She was a princess and, as such, was forced to offer her hospitality to the visiting royal.  _That better be all she's offering the simpleton._

          He knew the prince, knew why he was here. It was by his own hand the boy had been given to King George when his wife, the queen, hadn't been able to conceive. He himself had made a deal for the child and though poor, the family had been good and decent people. The king's evil taint had spoiled the boy until he was no better and he didn't want the princeling anywhere near his Belle.

          His shriveled heart thumped madly against his chest as he followed his mistress along the corridor, leading Prince James to his guest chamber. When had he begun to think of her as  _his_? Let the boy touch her … one finger … and they'd need the seven swords of Megiddo to belay his wrath.

          James was kissing her hand again, and Rumpelstiltskin’s vision reddened with rage. This time Belle heard the warning growl emitting from him and hastily bid the prince a goodnight, turning and linking her arm through his and allowing him to lead her back to their bedchamber. He left her with Clara in the sitting room and stalked to the terrace garden. With a thought, his clothes changed into a soft cotton tunic and pants which ended just below his knee, leaving behind the leather which bound and chaffed with thoughts of his delectable mistress.

          Magic thundered from his fingertips as he placed spells upon their chamber, great clouds of multi-hued smoke to guard his mistress. He could feel her standing in the archway leading out to the terrace, her fear and anxiety rolling off her body in waves and he fed off of it, letting it make him stronger. He warded the chamber so no others besides himself, Belle and Clara could enter, a strong barrier sealing the main doors and then the walls which ringed the terrace.

          The strength of the magicks he'd used left him light-headed and weak, and he stalked past his mistress without a word and retreated to his room, pulling the curtain closed and falling upon his bed. He turned on his side to face the wall and breathed deeply, trying in vain to dispel the red haze of anger which wouldn't release him from its vise-like grip.

          Clara helped Belle out of her dress and into a clean nightgown before sitting her at the vanity to brush out her long hair. "I hope you're not going to let that one pay court to you. He seems to be quite arrogant and full of himself. We can only begin to guess what  _he_  wants," the older woman sniffed indignantly, casting a glance at the closed curtain between the two rooms which separated Belle from her servant.

          "Hush, Clara. Don't alarm yourself," Belle said softly, not wanting her voice to carry to an already angry Rumpelstiltskin. "I have no intentions of giving my hand - or any other part of my body - to that vapid prince."

          "Good," Clara huffed with a hearty shake of her head. She leaned close to Belle to whisper in her ear. "I don't think your young man appreciates the prince paying you court, milady."

          Belle laughed softly. "You can't possibly think Rumpel's jealous of James … can you?" she asked, taking in the seriousness of her maid's features, all laughter dying a slow death in her throat. "That's absurd." Her thoughts flashed to their time in bed that morning and she blushed at the memory. No, he couldn't feel that way about her, could he? Not after he'd so callously warned her not to come to him again unless she was ready to give herself  _completely_  to him.

          "No more absurd that your feelings for him, dear."

          Belle's eyes widened as she met Clara's gaze in the mirror. "I don't …"

          "Deny it all you like, but it's plain to see you care for him. You may be able to hide your feelings from your father, dear, but not from me. I know you too well," her maid said and left the room with a goodnight. Belle stared at her reflection for a moment, denying what had been so clear to her maid and rose to pour herself a cup of tea and settle in with a book.

          She couldn't concentrate on the words, however, her mind filled with thoughts of the imp. The way she felt when he touched her, the comfort she found in his arms, the way he'd held her high above the council room and wiped away her tears, and his presence at her side, _always_ at her side. He'd been so angry over the prince's arrival, unaccountably furious if he still held her in contempt for having the nerve to own him. Could he really be jealous? She set her empty cup back on the tray and walked into her garden, her fingertips brushing over the petals of her roses as she made her way to the wall.

          He felt it the moment her fingertips touched the wards, felt it as though she were running her hands over his naked flesh and he shuddered with pleasure. In less time than it took to blink, he was standing behind her, his hands clasped behind his back to stop himself from reaching for her. He wanted so badly to touch her, to erase any thoughts of the visiting princeling from her mind, to make her want …

          "What are you doing out here, mistress?" he asked, startling her out of the daze she seemed to have fallen into as her fingers trailed through the blue mist-like shield which pulsed along the terrace walls. "Daydreaming about the handsome prince who's come to seek you out, hmm?"

 _Well, that didn't take long!_  "No, I was just enjoying the night air. I'm sorry if I disturbed your solitude," she remarked offhandedly, running her fingers once more over the wards and watching in awe as tiny streaks resembling lightning strikes curled away from her hand to flit along the shield.

          He couldn't stop the moan which escaped his throat at her touch on the shield and she turned to him, her brow raised in askance. "Are you alright?"

          He took her hands in his and led her to sit on the garden bench beneath the plum tree. "Don't touch the wards, pet." He leaned in close, his nose brushing against hers as he gazed deeply into her cobalt eyes. "I can feel your touch through the magic," he whispered, his gaze dropping to her parted lips. Unable to trust himself not to touch her, he strode back into their chamber and sat at his wheel, leaving her alone to ponder the myriad of emotions which had turned her world upside down.

 

*.*.*

 

          Belle sat up on the side of her bed and groaned from the stiffness in her neck as the first streaks of dawn climbed over the horizon. She'd tossed and turned fitfully all through the night, uncomfortable on the down mattress for the first time in years, missing the warmth she'd shared with Rumpelstiltskin the night before. She groaned again. She needed to stop thinking about him in such a way. He was her friend. They couldn't have more, no matter how much she might want it. And then she felt him, felt those dark as pitch eyes travel slowly over her body like a warm caress. Her eyes immediately sought him out at his wheel, the steady creak of it silenced as his hand stilled.

          "Mistress," he acknowledged her.

          "Good morning, Rumpel," she greeted him hesitantly, her teeth worrying at her lip as she wondered if she'd encounter another glimpse into his rage this morning. The wheel turned again under his hand, returning to his task and ignoring her once more.

          She rose from the bed and went to her wardrobe, choosing a gown of lilac muslin to wear, something easy for her to don by herself without the aid of her maid. She dressed quickly and moved to her vanity to brush out her long chestnut curls, her mind on another pointless day at her duties. If not for the presence of the prince, she would have been able to spend the day with her servant away from the castle. She was beginning to think he was more upset over the delay than over any feelings of jealousy as Clara suspected. He was too belligerent, too angry, too untrusting of her to have feelings for her.

          Belle was so lost in thoughts of him and her own tumultuous emotions, she was startled when he sat down behind her on the bench at her vanity and ran his blackened nails through her hair. Her eyes closed in pleasure as they scraped against her scalp and ran across her nape and down her back. He lifted the brush from her hand and pulled it languorously through the tresses.

          His voice was low and raw with emotion when he spoke, unable to hide it in time. "A copper for your thoughts, pet."

          Her eyes met his in the mirror briefly, before sliding away, not wanting him to see the confusion in their depths. "Are you still angry with me, Rumpel?"

          The mage sighed as he buried his nose in her hair, breathing her in. "I wasn't angry with you, dearie. I am merely displeased with the shepherd's arrival," he said and then cursed himself silently for letting that bit of knowledge slip.

          "What do you mean?" she asked, turning to face him, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Tell me what you know, Rumpelstiltskin."

          He felt a painful twinge from the dagger as he fought her command to give her an answer, his ribs burning with pain. "He is not the true son of King George. I made a deal with the king and procured an heir for him," he confessed finally, the pain easing with his truthfulness. Belle raised her hand to soothe the lines of pain from his brow before trailing her hand along his temple and lower to cup his face. He turned his face into her hand, brushing his lips across her palm.

          "Is that why you don't like him … or is it something else?" she asked, her breathing becoming shallow as her heart accelerated. She sighed wearily when he didn't answer. "It doesn't matter. He's only passing through on his way home. He'll depart tomorrow, and we can put the experience behind us," she said with a firm nod of her head.

          His gaze softened as he studied her face. "You … um … you don't fancy the pretty boy princeling, pet?" he asked, hating himself for letting his vulnerability peek through his hardened veneer.

          "No, Rumpel. I don't want Prince James and I don't fancy him. I …"

          Whatever she had been about to say was cut off abruptly as Clara bustled into the room with Belle's morning tea tray. She rose hastily and would have knocked over the bench if he hadn't been sitting on it. Her face flushed with embarrassment as she moved to the sofa and sat down to pour the tea. Clara glanced between the tight set of Rumpelstiltskin's jaw and the lovely blush staining her lady's cheeks and smiled knowingly.

          He joined her on the sofa, leaving a respectable distance between them, and took the cup from her, his fingers brushing lightly against hers.

          "What of our deal? We were to leave the castle today," he reminded her.

          Belle grinned at him over the rim of her cup, her eyes alight with mischief. "Tomorrow. The prince will be gone, and we'll have the entire day to ourselves," she beamed happily. "Have you decided where we will go? What we will do?"

          "Of course."

          "Won't you tell me?"

          He giggled shrilly as though that were the most absurd suggestion he'd ever heard. "And ruin the surprise?"

 

*.*.*

 

          Belle twisted her fingers together as she searched the shadowed recesses of the dining hall. She'd been furious with Rumpelstiltskin when Hovarth had shown up at her door with instructions to escort her to the dining hall where she would have breakfast with the prince. It didn't matter that she found the idea of dining with anyone but her servant abhorrent, she had to do her duty as hostess. But he was nowhere to be seen. He was bound to protect her. How could he fulfill his duties if he was absent from her presence?

          His voice came to her in a husky whisper as she listened to the prince regale her with a tale of giants and his heroic vanquishing of the immense terrors. "Nod if you can hear me, pet," his voice instructed, his breath fanning her ear and sending a delightful shiver through her. She nodded almost imperceptively, unconsciously leaning closer to him. He nudged her back into her previous position, chuckling softly. "Don't fret that I've broken my word, dearie. I'm using the same spell we used to spy in the council room … with one modification. Only  _you_  can see or hear me. This way, I can guard you and no one will be the wiser … especially the princeling."

          Belle smiled and sagged against the back of her chair in relief now that she knew he would be near. He brushed his lips against her knuckles as she brought the back of her hand up to caress his face. He hadn't abandoned her. She tried to look interested in what Prince James was saying, and had to bite her lip to quell the heat unfurling in her belly. Rumpelstiltskin no longer spurned her touch, in fact he seemed to crave it … as she did. She'd never hated her duty as princess more than she did at that moment, pleasant thoughts of leaving the castle for good with her servant whirling in her mind.

          She glanced at the prince as he finished off the contents of his goblet and resumed his story, pasting a pleasant smile on her face, one which didn't match the boredom in her cerulean eyes. "I'm sorry, highness, but I feel the need to take the air in the garden."

          "Please, allow me to escort you," he said with a smarmy smile as he rose from the table and pulled her chair back, so she could rise.

          Belle stifled a groan and tucked her hand into his proffered arm. A low growl sounded behind her as the prince led her out of the room and into the vast gardens which surrounded the castle, Hovarth trailing behind them at a discreet distance. Too discreet a distance for her servant to approve.  _He's going to end up as a puppy again_ , she thought with an amused smirk. Rumpelstiltskin was never more than a step behind her. She could feel her skirts brush against his leather-clad legs if she stopped suddenly.

          "I must say, I am enjoying your company, your highness. Would you perhaps allow me to use your given name?" James asked, pausing on the cobblestone path and raising her hand to his lips.

          The color left her face at the snarl she heard close to her ear. She gave an imperceptible shake of her head for Rumpelstiltskin's benefit. It was such a slight gesture of courtship from the prince and not worthy of a scene. "I hardly know you, your highness. I don't think we should indulge in such familiarity after such a brief acquaintance," she said demurely, meeting his gaze with a steady look. She felt Rumpelstiltskin relax upon seeing the prince's disappointment.

          Of course, James was not one to suffer rejection lightly. "Well, then … we will just have to become better acquainted," he purred silkily as he placed her captive hand against his chest and wrapped his arm around her waist, dragging her against him.

          Before she could draw breath to protest, the prince was lying on the path, howling in agony and clasping his injured hand to his chest. Rumpelstiltskin, very visible and seething with fury hovered over him, his teeth bared in a snarl, an inhuman growl rumbling from his chest. "My mistress is not amenable to your pursuit, boy," he hissed furiously, his voice quiet and deadly.

          "You broke my fingers," James yowled, drawing himself up onto his knees. It was only then that fear replaced the pain and anger in his gaze as he recognized the creature of legend who stood menacingly over him, his body placed protectively in front of the princess. "Dark One."

          Belle offered Prince James a hand to help him to his feet. "I'm terribly sorry, highness, but my protection is of the utmost importance to my father. I do apologize for your injury. Perhaps next time you won't be so handsy with the ladies you court." With that, she left him standing there. Rumpelstiltskin giggled maniacally, pleased he'd been able to protect his lady's virtue and followed behind her, his cloak swishing behind him.

          She frowned as they gained the corridor leading to her chambers. “Rumpel, how is it you made a deal for James to be adopted by King George if you’ve been enslaved to my father for thirty years? James can’t be more than twenty-five … if that.”

          The Dark One snorted. “A favor your father owed an ally. George was pleased with the child and my master’s debt was paid.”

          Belle’s brow furrowed further, another act of intrigue on her father’s part leaving her cause to worry.  But she didn’t want to dwell on him now.  Rumpelstiltskin’s mood was lighter than it had been that morning as he followed her into their chamber.

          She stalked over to the bookshelf and withdrew a thin volume, taking a seat on the sofa and patting the seat next to her. Surprise lit her face as he removed his cloak and laid down on the sofa next to her, his head resting in her lap. "Will you read aloud, pet?" he asked, his tone full to overflowing with smug satisfaction. "A reward for rescuing my fair mistress from the odious princeling?" he teased.

          She joined in his laughter. "It was rather gallant of you, Rumpel. What would people say of the Dark One if they knew?" She carded her free hand through his hair, listening to the pleased sigh which passed his parted lips. "It could ruin your reputation."

          "Nonsense. People are too terrified to poke fun at the Dark One."

          Belle snorted good-naturedly and opened the book, her voice filling their chamber, the only sound aside from the purring sound coming from her very pleased slave.

 

*.*.*

 

          "No! D-Don't let them take her," she wailed, her heart pounding as she thrashed upon her bed, her limbs tangled in her blankets. Belle fought against the demon specter who invaded her dreams and left her awash with terror. "No!"

          Rumpelstiltskin bolted upright upon the bed in his room, his magic making his hands glow as he searched the darkness for the sound which had disturbed his sleep. He sent out feelers, looking for intruders into their sanctuary, his protective instincts coming to the fore of his being. He was on his bare feet in an instant as he heard his mistress cry out in her sleep, unmindful that he was only wearing his sleeping pants or that it would be highly inappropriate for her maid to enter and find him thus with the girl.

          Gentle hands smoothed the snarled mass of curls away from her face before sliding around her and pulling her against his chest.

          "Mistress, wake up, sweet. It's just a nightmare," he crooned softly against the top of her head. She wasn't making it easy as she began to fight against him, her clenched fist connecting painfully with his eye. He shook her gently. "Belle!" Her eyes snapped open at the sound of her name spoken so firmly from his lips. "Just a nightmare, pet. It's alright now. I'm here, I'm here."

          Fat tears welled in her eyes to track down her face as she wrapped her arms around his neck and let him cradle her to his chest. "I'm sorry. I couldn't save her. I couldn't save her. I'm so, so sorry," she cried, drenching his chest with her tears, great heaving sobs wracking her body.

          "Who, pet? Who couldn't you save?" he asked between the shushing sounds he was whispering against her ear in an effort to soothe her. "You can tell me, dear one. I won't let anyone harm you." He traced soothing circles over her back as he waited for her sobs to cease.

          "M-My mother," she began with a hiccup against his wet chest. "They took her. They took her, and my father did nothing. Nothing! He _allowed_ them to take her!"

          He pushed her away slightly and looked down into her face. Her eyes were glassy with tears, her bottom lip trembled, and her cheeks were pale with fear, the remnants of the nightmare clinging to her. "Tell me."

          When she looked at him, it was as though she couldn't see him, only the vision which haunted her. "There were several women in the village of … questionable virtue and my mother … she was trying to help them flee from the order. She felt it was her duty to help them escape from the kingdom, to find refuge elsewhere to start a new life. The order caught them before they could get away," she said, her voice whisper soft, her nails digging fearfully into his shoulders.

          He stroked her face with his calloused fingers and pressed a kiss to her brow. "What of your mother, pet?" he asked, using the nickname he'd given her long ago, an endearment on his lips instead of a curse. "What became of her?"

          Fresh tears coursed down her ashen face as she nuzzled into his neck and held on to his shoulders tightly. "They brought her before my father in view of the entire court and listed the charges against her, saying she was tainted for associating with those women, that she was no better than them, despite the fact she was the queen." She was sobbing in earnest now. "Papa … P-Papa let them take her. When they returned her to us after her 'cleansing'," she choked out, the last word accompanied by a bitter laugh. "She was near dead from the wounds. They used her as an example, Rumpel. My mother was used as an example not to disobey their pious laws. She died suffering and there was nothing I could do to help her."

          "How old were you, Belle?" he asked, running his fingers through her hair and smoothing it over her back. He could feel the rage, against the injustice done her, burn in him, urging the beast to let out a howl of protest.

          "I was ten."

          "Is this why you distrust your father? Why you're afraid of Adrian?"

          Belle nodded and leaned back to look at him. "I've never told anyone before. I was hiding in the shadows playing with my dolls. I was so frightened of what they would do to me if I made a sound. What if …"

He gave her a gentle shake, furious at the king, at the clerics, that this brave soul had to suffer for the actions of those who should have offered her nothing but love and protection. "Don't you dare blame yourself. Do you hear me? This is not your fault," he hissed, drawing her back into his embrace.

          Belle's fingers tightened in the long strands resting at his nape and pulled his lips to hers, claiming them in a bruising kiss. She ran her tongue over the seam of his lips and swallowed his gasp, thrusting her tongue into his mouth to duel with his, reveling in the taste of him and the heat coiling tightly in her core. She pressed him back against the bed, pouring every one of her raw bleeding emotions into the kiss.

          "Belle … what are you … doing?" he asked, grabbing her upper arms and trying to push her away.

          "Touch me, Rumpelstiltskin," she breathed, trailing her lips along his jaw to his ear and nipping the lobe. "I want you to touch me."

          Her tone was commanding as she ran her hands over his chest, using the thrall of the dagger against him. Tears continued to trek down her face, her grief nearly consuming her. If he obeyed, she would regret it. Then she would be forever shamed because she'd sought comfort from her beast. She would never be able to have a suitable marriage. She would be ruined. He could feel the pain radiate up his spine as he fought against his mistress's command as well as her roaming hands and hot mouth.

          "Mistress, stop!" he growled, swallowing a grunt of pain. "Belle …"

          And even as he protested, his traitorous hands pulled her closer to cup her breast, his lips seeking to bring her pleasure. "You don't want this, pet. You're hurting, and you want something to make you feel better. You don't want this," he whimpered desperately as his teeth grazed her neck.

          "Don't you want me, Rumpelstiltskin?" she asked in a hurt little voice which drove a knife straight into his shriveled heart, making it want to beat once more.

          "You know I do. But not like this. Please, Belle … not like this."

          Her hands stilled as she reared back to meet his gaze. "But I want to. I need you."

          "You would use me like this? You would _use_ me to sate your lust, to forget your pain?" he asked, trying to think of anything to tell her which would save her from this. "Please, pet, don't do this. Don't make me hurt you. If you do, you will hate me in the morning. You will hate _yourself_. Tell me to stop, Belle, please." What was left of his humanity had him pleading with her. For all the kindnesses she'd shown him since she'd barreled into his life, his humanity, the decency so long buried in him, couldn't let this happen.

          She collapsed against his chest and began sobbing anew. "Stop, Rumpel," she whispered against his neck, sanity finally returning to her and making her feel a deep shame for her callous disregard for him. "But don't leave me, please. _Please_ stay with me," she asked, raising her tear streaked face to his. "I don't want to be alone anymore. I'm asking, not commanding. Please?"

          He felt something more powerful than the dagger pull at him as he pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth and nodded, lifting her in his arms and setting her back against her pillows. "I'll not leave you, pet," he vowed softly, slipping under the blankets behind her and pulling her back against his chest. "Try to sleep. I promise I'll not leave you."

          It was a long while before she relaxed into his chest, her sobs quieting as she felt the irresistible pull of sleep drag her under. He didn't sleep at all, choosing to watch over her as she slept fitfully, only stilling under his gentle caresses to her hair or back or a gentle kiss to her temple. The state she was in was enough to make him hate the king and the clerics with renewed fervor. She wasn't broken, but she was damaged … just like him. He was beginning to realize they needed each other, that perhaps _together_ – if he were willing to fully accept her - they might be able to heal.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yes, our Rumpel has a noble streak. Next, their day away from the castle and mixed feelings as the guests begin to arrive for Belle's birthday ball. Still really joyous y’all have stuck with me for so long. Really loving the reviews and encouragement. Thanks to all new readers who have joined the fun by fav-ing and following. You guys are wonderful.


	9. UNEXPECTED

 

          Rumpelstiltskin watched Clara enter the room, his fringe of hair hiding the fact he was awake, Belle tucked into his side. He wanted his mistress to rest this morning since she'd gotten so little throughout the night. The maid stopped mid-stride as she moved to the side of the bed, her lips parted in a silent 'o' of surprise at seeing the sorcerer in bed with her lady. He raised a finger to his lips to caution her to silence, which was met with a raised brow from the maid. With a flourish of his hand, he appeared before her fully dressed in his leathers and a bronze silk shirt, deviating from his usual black. He beckoned to Clara to join him on the terrace after he'd poured them both a cup of tea, well out of Belle's earshot should she wake.

          "Might I ask why you are were in my lady's bed, Dark One?" Clara asked indignantly, eyeing the sorcerer with a practiced eye.

          Rumpelstiltskin shrugged noncommittally and sat down on the garden bench. "My mistress was suffering from violent nightmares. She … um … she asked me to stay with her in the night. Nothing untoward happened, Miss Clara. You have no cause to fear for your lady's virtue," he said over the rim of his cup. For once, his voice resembled more of his human side, the evil imp mysteriously absent. He felt relaxed in the presence of Belle's caretaker, believing the woman only had his mistress's best interests at heart.

          "She was dreaming about her mother again, yes? Poor lamb," she clucked sympathetically. "She blames herself. For years, she hasn't been able to rid herself of the nightmares." She regarded him silently for a moment, taking his measure. "Did she tell you about it?"

          He stared down into his empty cup in contemplation. "Last night, yes. She confided in me."

          "She must care for you deeply if she told you," she said gently. His head jerked up in alarm. "Don't look at me like that, boy. Surely you can see how she feels for you."

          He laughed at her audacity at calling the Dark One a boy. "My mistress is an … unusual female to be sure."

          Clara laughed and finished off her tea before she spoke again. "Our lady is a rare and precious pearl, tossed about in a sea of intrigue and turmoil. Her shine has been scratched, but not beyond repair. She just needs someone to polish her … to cherish her and protect her before the shine is dulled forever."

          His mouth gaped open in surprise the serving woman had such a way with words. It had taken him many years to hone his own wit from what he'd been as a simple spinner. "You have a way of cutting through the horse … well, you know what I mean."

          Her eyes narrowed on him. "Do. Not. Hurt. Her. I know you care for her in your own way which has nothing to do with the thrall you're under. Yes, I know about the dagger," she informed him, holding up her hand to forestall his anger. "The question is … is it enough?" She left him to wonder over that as she went back inside to check on Belle.

          How was he supposed to know how he felt about his engaging mistress? The girl held his life in her hands with the clear indication she didn't know of the power she could wield. Yet she never tried to abuse that power, had never commanded him to do something which would hurt himself or others. The breath left his body with the thought that if someone, anyone had to hold him captive, he was pleased it was her.

_Well, fuck._

          He returned to their chamber to find her sitting up in bed, resting against a mound of pillows and cradling a cup of tea in her hands. "… and I don't know when we will return. He hasn't told me where we're going yet, but I suppose we'll be back this evening," she gushed happily to her maid. "I don't want Papa to find out I've left, so please … do your best to avoid him today."

          "I won't allow him to discover your little intrigues, dear. I will go down and speak to Mrs. Potts and see if she can prepare you a basket to take on your trip, shall I?"

          "Thank you, Miss Clara," Rumpelstiltskin said from his position in the archway, nodding respectfully at the woman as she ducked out of the room.

          Belle blushed prettily and peered at him from under her lashes, gathering her courage and patting the spot on the bed next to her. He moved to sit at her side and didn't pull away as she took his hand in hers. "Thank you … for staying with me last night. I'm so sor –“

          He placed a finger to her lips to shush her apologies. "No matter, pet. You don't owe me an apology, an explanation or an excuse," he said, his voice gentle and understanding, something she wasn't used to from him. He brushed a stray curl behind her ear and let his fingers trail over the alabaster skin of her face. "You were in pain and needed comfort."

          She grabbed his hand before he could pull away and pressed a soft kiss to his fingertips. "It’s still no excuse for my wretched behavior. I'm just glad you were here, Rumpel."

          He dropped his gaze from hers, discomfited by the unidentified emotion in her eyes and sprang lightly to his feet. He pressed his fingers together nervously, tapping them together. "Well, are you going to dawdle in bed all day, or are we going to have an adventure?"

 

*.*.*

 

          Belle looked down at the knee-length shift, made of some heavy black material and blushed. There was entirely too much skin on display and she couldn't shake her feelings of discomfort. "Um…why am I dressed this way?" she asked bashfully, crossing her arms over her bosom. That didn't help. The action simply pushed her breasts up and put her cleavage on display for his hungry gaze. She was still embarrassed for throwing herself at him the night before, hence her shy reaction to him this morning.

          She blinked, her eyes wide as his leathers and silk shirt disappeared to be replaced by a pair of tight, black linen trousers similar to the ones he slept in. Her eyes slid away from his bare chest as the color in her cheeks darkened. "Because, pet, this is appropriate attire for where we are going," he said with a shrill laugh. "You might want to put your hair in a braid to keep it from getting in the way," he said in all seriousness, which only intrigued her more. "There," he said, using magic to dispense with the task.

          Her eyes widened in disbelief. "Rumpel, I cannot leave the castle dressed like this," she shrieked in outrage.

          "'Course, you can." He winked at her, grabbed the basket with their luncheon in one hand and slipped his arm around her waist, hauling her against his chest. He kissed the tip of her nose and let the purple smoke envelop them, taking them to their destination. She'd given him this day to be free and it felt glorious.

          No matter what she commanded him to do today, it was his choice to bow to her wishes or ignore them. Without the dagger's thrall, he could feel desperate souls all over the kingdom crying out into the void and he ignored them all. Today was for him … and his Belle. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he was going to be selfless and devote his time to someone else, someone who didn't want anything but his friendship and his time. He was going to give her a day she would always remember and hopefully look back with fondness for him.

          Slowly, as the smoke cleared, he lowered her gently to her bare feet and waited anxiously for her to open her eyes.

          Belle gasped as she felt her toes sink into the sand beneath her feet. She could hear the roaring of water and smell the delightful scents of flora and fauna all around them. He dropped the basket in the sand at their feet and turned her in his arms, so she could see the wondrous sight before them, his face soft with tenderness as he watched her light up with joy. A large lake stretched out before them - fed by the waterfall which cascaded in majestic glory from above - held her entranced, her lips parted and her eyes wide and filled with the beginnings of tears.

          All around them, they were secluded by towering trees, wildflowers and a beach with soft white sand. It was a paradise the likes of which she had never seen, had only read about in her books. She had never known such beauty existed.

          Belle turned back to face him and threw her arms about his neck, pressing her lips to his briefly and nearly bouncing with glee. "Thank you, Rumpel. This is the most wonderful gift you could ever have given me."

          The mage steered her toward the edge of the rippling waters and gave her a gentle push in its direction. "Go and play, pet. Frolic. Swim and enjoy yourself." He watched her happily splash into the water until it reached her thighs before turning to spread out a blanket on the sand.

          She was waist deep when she called to him. "Aren't you coming?"

          He raised a brow at her, knowing he shouldn't give in to the temptation. When she finally released him, these memories would be too painful to remember. But the abject joy on her face lured him to her side. He dove into the water and swam beneath its surface until he could grab her slim ankle and pull her under. She came up sputtering and grasping for his shoulders.

          Wrapping his arms about her waist, he pulled her into deeper water, so she was forced to cling to him to stay afloat. "Can't you swim, dearie?"

          "No, I never learned. I don't get out much," she said with a rueful smile.

          "We'll just have to change that, won't we?" he asked, his voice husky as his eyes dropped to her mouth where water droplets clung to her lips. The cascading falls left a mist hanging in the air which left more droplets clinging in her hair, sparkling like diamonds in the bright sunlight. "You are so beautiful, my pet."

          Belle searched his gaze, looking for any sign of dishonesty before she hesitantly pressed her lips to his, reveling in their softness as they moved against hers in the sweetest of kisses. It was nothing like the other kisses they'd shared, and it made her heart soar. His hand slipped over her hip and urged her to wrap her legs around his waist.

          "Trust me," he murmured softly against the corner of her mouth.

          She did as he asked and locked her ankles together around his waist. His hands dropped away from her as he leaned back, her body splayed across his chest and kicked off for the rock ledge next to the cascade. She squealed with delight and wrapped her arms around his torso as he swam on his back. He wasn't even out of breath when they reached the ledge and he lifted her to sit, watching her as she stretched out her hand to the falling water.

          "This is so amazing, Rumpel," she beamed, her smile warming him to the very depths of his soul. He'd worry about the curious wrenching of his heart in the darkest part of night before sleep. Right now, he was too fascinated by the woman in his arms for it to disturb him. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather share this with than you."

          He looked at her with the strangest little curl of his mouth, his brow lightly furrowed in a curious crease. No one, not even in his human life had ever expressed such joy over his companionship. And certainly no one had ever wished for it. There was a light in his mistress which enveloped everyone around her, something he'd never seen in another soul.

          Shaking himself out of his reverie, he set to the task of teaching her to swim. Her efforts were awkward and clumsy as she tried to get her legs to move in sync with her arms and he couldn't help but laugh. Eventually, she was able to get the hang of it and he only had to reach for her once or twice as they swam back to shore, collapsing onto the blanket in exhaustion. Her limbs burned from the exertion, but the happy smile she wore remained all through the meal they shared.

          Just after noon, he packed up the remains of their picnic along with the blanket and magicked the items back to the castle, so they wouldn't have to carry it with them the rest of the day. With a flourish and a thought, he fashioned them dry clothes. His eyes swept her frame in appreciation as he clothed her in a simple sky-blue muslin day gown with a white lace trim. They traveled through a meadow of wildflowers, lost in their conversation as she coaxed him to tell her more of his life before he'd become her father's slave, of his many deals and his home, finally getting him to agree to show it to her next time they indulged in a 'free day'.

          They ended up in a village several miles from the lake and he summoned his cloak to mask his identity from the townsfolk, giving her freedom to visit the market stalls without the usual shrieks of terror which followed him everywhere. He produced a leather pouch filled with gold coins for her purchases against her protests, promising her there was plenty just sitting in his treasure room in the Dark Castle.

          It was  _his_  free day and he wanted to do this for her, therefore, who was she to tell him no. He groaned with mock anguish as she dragged him into a book store, the avarice in the shopkeeper's gaze not going unnoticed as she selected a large stack and paid for them with the coins. They, too, were sent back to the castle to await her return.

          Several times she passed by a certain stall selling gold chains and pendants and a broach or two which seemed to catch her eye. He complained, and she sent him off to the pub for a pint of ale to let her shop and browse in peace. He sat at a table where he could keep her in plain sight, never taking his eyes from his mistress.

          It was with a heavy heart they sat atop a hill, overlooking the valley below watching the sun sink below the horizon, their hands entwined and her head resting against his shoulder. "We need to return, pet. You don't want to be late for dinner and have your father wonder over your long absence."

          She sighed as a wave of melancholy swept over her. "This has been the best day, Rumpel. I wish it didn't have to end."

          "I'm sorry, pet, but that is beyond even my power," he said, kissing her crown of fragrant curls. "But I share the sentiment." He did. Never could he remember sharing a better day in the company of a woman.

          "Oh," she started suddenly, remembering. "I have something for you, Rumpel," she gushed happily, pulling a small canvas drawstring bag from the pocket of her cloak.

          He frowned at her, startled and uneasy. The last gift he'd received had been from his son on the eve of the winter solstice before he'd disappeared into a swirling green vortex. With fumbling fingers, he untied the drawstring and let the contents fall into his palm, the item shining brightly in the dying rays of the setting sun. The golden chain, not as fine as one he could have crafted from his own thread, fell over the side of his hand, held fast to his palm by the pendant attached to it. A golden spinning wheel.

          She smiled shyly up at him, frowning when she noticed the wetness gathering at the corner of his eyes. "Did I do something wrong? Do you not like it? I didn't mean … please, Rumpel … don't be sad. If …"

          Her words died in her throat as he gathered her to him and poured his heart into her mouth as he took her lips in a bruising kiss. His walls, the walls around his heart, crumbled to ash as he plundered her mouth and left her breathless and wanting. "Thank you, Belle."

          "Then you  _do_  like it?" she asked hesitantly as she clung to his shoulders to stay on her feet and maintain her balance after the onslaught of his kiss.

          "Yes, pet. It's wonderful." He dropped to one knee, so she could fasten it about his neck, touching it reverently with his clawed hand and knowing he would never remove it. The last rays of the sun disappeared behind the horizon as he gathered her in his embrace and transported them back to the castle and an enslavement he didn't deem quite so distressing anymore.

 

*.*.*

 

          "Goodness, child, where have you been?!" Clara screeched as soon as the smoke cleared, leaving Belle standing in the circle of Rumpelstiltskin's arms. Belle stepped away from him reluctantly and moved to Clara's side, her face showing how repentant she was for causing her to worry. "Your father has been sending messengers for the past hour. It seems we have unexpected guests. Their outriders arrived earlier to announce them, and your father was hoping you would join him in the courtyard to offer greetings."

          "Who is it, Clara?" Belle asked, stepping through the archway onto the terrace and peering over to view the courtyard at the front of the castle. Rumpelstiltskin joined her, his arm slipping unconsciously around her waist, just as curious to know who their visitors were.

          "I'm not sure, dear. Some prince, from a neighboring kingdom, with his vapid wife and daughter," Clara said, disapproval clearly evident in her tone.

          Belle's sharp gaze landed on a young woman directing a footman on the handling of their baggage, her form draped in a deep royal blue traveling gown. With a squeal of delight, she ran through their bedchamber and out the door, leaving Rumpelstiltskin cursing and calling after her. "Mistress, wait!" She was nearly a corridor ahead of him when he stopped running and appeared at her side using his magic, grabbing her elbow and reigning her to a halt. "What is the bloody hurry, pet?"

          She was flushed, breathless and shining with happiness as she met his gaze. "She's here. I haven't seen her in two years. She finished school ahead of me and Snow and Aurora. Come, Rumpel. I want you to meet her," she said, her beautiful face alight with excitement, twining her fingers with his and pulling him along after her.

          Belle let go of his hand as they reached the courtyard, ignoring her father's sharply hissed, "Where have you been?" as she ran to the carriage to greet her friend. Rumpelstiltskin kept the hood of his cloak low over his face as he stopped a discreet distance behind her, giving her privacy.

          "Belle!" the girl exclaimed, her face shining with happiness as she drew the princess into her arms and hugged her warmly. "Oh, I've missed you. Did you receive my last letter?"

          "I did. I've just been so busy since I arrived home, I haven't had a chance to respond. Please tell me you're going to stay for my birthday ball at the end of the week," Belle grinned, linking her arm with the girl's and leading her towards the castle.

          "Of course." The girl lowered her voice. "Is it true you were abducted by King Edward?"

          Belle rolled her eyes and smirked wryly. "Unfortunately, yes. But I don't have to worry about that anymore. Never again do I have to worry about my protection."

          "Really, why?" she asked, her brow furrowing skeptically. If anyone knew Belle, then they also knew her penchant for finding trouble.

          Belle stopped before Rumpelstiltskin and drew him to her side. "My friend,  _this_  is my protection. And believe me, he takes his job very seriously," Her smile held a hint of amusement. "This is Rumpelstiltskin," she announced proudly. With a prod to his ribs, he bowed low to the visiting royal.

          The girl gasped in surprise and turned to Belle, pulling her away from the sorcerer with a fearful frown. "You've completely gone daft, haven't you, Belle? He's the Dark One, for Gods' sake."

          "Yes, I know," Belle nodded, drawing her back to stand by the imp. "Rumpel, I'm pleased to introduce you to my dear friend … Regina."

          Before he could respond in kind, the girl's mother called to her from the entrance of the castle's main entryway and he felt the icy hand of dread clutch his heart. His first instinct was to curl around his mistress and transport her to safety to avoid the evil wafting through the air. But he knew she would object. She seemed genuinely happy for the opportunity to spend time with her dear school friend and he didn't want to take that from her. He would simply have to reinforce the wards on their chamber and lock her in. No, she would, no doubt, object to that as well.

          Her delicate hand on his arm snapped him back to attention. "Rumpel? I asked if you were going to escort us in to dinner. Are you alright?"

          "Yes, mistress," Rumpelstiltskin murmured, offering his arm as his gaze slid to the woman waiting for her daughter at the entrance. He didn't lower his hood as he led Belle forward to follow Regina. He closed his eyes briefly as he paused so Belle could offer a greeting to the woman, his hand tightening over Belle's where it rested on his arm, tension coiling through his wiry frame. Belle rushed forward to walk into the castle with her friend, leaving him momentarily alone before he could make his legs work again.

          A wicked laugh filled the silence left in Belle's wake with her sudden departure. "Rumpelstiltskin," she purred silkily, her voice a painful reminder of past mistakes. "You are the last person I ever expected to see here."

          "Cora," he acknowledged, tossing back his hood to sneer at her, wanting her to see the contempt written clearly on his face. "I think we both know that's a lie, dearie. I think that's the very reason you are here."

          He left her to stand there to stay or follow, he didn't care as he trained his watchful gaze on his mistress.

_Bloody fucking fairies roasting on a spit! This would not end well._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay … who saw that one coming? Anyone? Come on, you can tell me. I so can't wait to hear what you think.


	10. CORA

 

          Belle's face hurt from having to keep her princess mask in place, that combination of resolve and sense of duty which presented itself in a bright smile which never reached her eyes. Her father led her to the head of their table in the dining hall, her hand in the crook of his arm. She listened to Maurice with only half an ear, his droning litany of complaints leaving a bruise to the happy euphoria she'd been in since that morning.

          "… you could very well have ruined relations between Avonlea and Whitehall by your callous treatment of the prince," he hissed indignantly.

          Belle's brow drew together in a frown of irritation. "So, I was supposed to let him maul my person while we strolled through the garden? Is that what you're telling me? My virtue has so little worth? Well, if I had known …" She left her comment open for her father's interpretation as she took her seat next to him and began filling a plate with delicacies for Rumpelstiltskin as he sat down to her right.

          "That is not what I am saying at all, my girl. But that … that …" His face flushed with anger as he pointed one stubby finger at her servant, " _beast_  broke three of the prince's fingers!"

          She didn't have to look at Rumpelstiltskin to know he was wearing a satisfied smirk. "At least he's alive to tell the tale of his scuffle with the Dark One," she replied drolly. "Well, I'm glad he's gone, and I hope he doesn't come back. You can settle your own issues with King George without me having to suffer James' presence."

          "No, you would rather spend every bit of your time with a monster," he hissed, spooning a helping of potatoes onto his plate with a bit too much gusto and splattering himself and the table. "This situation is becoming unacceptable."

          "Papa, you're making a scene. Besides, you are sorely lacking in the art of deal-making. You never come out on the better side of a deal with me," she said matter-of-factly as she speared a bite of asparagus and popped it into her mouth. She glanced at Rumpelstiltskin to find his eyes had lightened to a warm amber and something akin to admiration lit his face.

          Maurice bristled with annoyance. "I don't want him near our guests, Belle. The matter is now closed and there will be no negotiations. My word is final."

          Belle graced him with a beguiling smile and leveled him with a slightly narrowed gaze. "If you insist, Papa. Rumpelstiltskin will not be  _seen_  by your guests," she agreed, her voice honey-sweet. Maurice groaned wearily.

          She turned her attention back to Rumpelstiltskin and leaned closer to whisper in his ear. "Just because they can't see you doesn't mean you won't be near me, hmm?" she asked, knowing he'd heard every word of the exchange between her and the king.

          "You're playing a dangerous game, pet. I hope you know what you're doing."

          "I can handle my father."

          He wasn't so certain.

 

*.*.*

 

          Belle spent the next several hours in their bedchamber with Regina and at least two pots of tea. They seemed to have an easy camaraderie of two people who had a long-standing friendship and years of gossip to catch up on. Rumpelstiltskin sat at his wheel and tried to concentrate on his task of spinning straw into gold, made a lot harder as he felt his mistress's eyes continue to watch him when she thought no one was looking.

          Their guests and their unexpected arrival was cutting into their time which was usually spent by a nice roaring fire, her melodious voice reading her favorite tomes and her hands stroking leisurely through his hair. So, no, he was far from pleased.

          Without lifting his eyes to meet Belle's, he raised his hand to caress the gold pendant lying against his chest. Her voice trailed off in the middle of her explanation of Lady Winstead's accident with a bowl of peas and he knew … knew she hadn't missed the gesture. It took a moment for Regina to reclaim her attention, her gaze flitting back and forth between Belle and the imp.

          Regina raised one sinfully dark brow over the rim of her teacup and grinned knowingly at her friend. "Have you told him yet that you love him?" she asked in a voice so low it couldn't even be considered a whisper.

          Belle ducked her head, a rosy blush rising to stain the apples of her cheeks. "I don't know what you mean," she evaded, refusing to have this conversation with the object of her affection mere yards away.

          Regina laughed softly and grasped Belle's hand in hers. "Deny it all you like, Belle. But you're not fooling anyone."

          Belle cleared her throat nervously and convinced Regina to tell her more about the young man with whom she was so enamored. It seemed she wasn't the only maiden in the castle dizzy with desire for someone who was completely unsuitable for them. It seemed she had been in love for years with a stable hand named Daniel who returned her deep love for him. It was doomed to failure because Regina's mother had higher aspirations for her daughter and would never let her marry a commoner such as he. It was nearly midnight when Regina finally left Belle's chamber to seek out her own bed, promising to go riding with her the next morning.

          She rose from the sofa and stretched the kinks from her muscles. They still burned from her activities of the day and she longed to climb into her bed and burrow into the soft mattress. His eyes were boring into her when she turned and walked slowly to the spinning wheel, laying her hand atop his. "You're mighty quiet this evening, Rumpel," she murmured softly, hiding a yawn behind her unoccupied hand. "Won't you tell me what's bothering you?"

          He set the golden thread aside and rose from his stool, turning her so her back was facing him. He deftly loosened the laces of her day gown and steered her toward the silk screen to change into her nightclothes. He waved his hand and donned his cotton sleeping pants, leaving his chest bare except for the pendant. He'd bespelled the clasp to keep it secure, not wanting to take a chance of losing it. His breath caught in his chest as she stepped from behind the screen in a silk gown of dove grey, thin straps holding it to her petite frame, the back non-existent as the edge of the material caressed her lower back.  _Gods, she's killing me!_

          Her bare feet were silent on the rug as she approached him and laid her hand on his chest just above his heart. "Are you ready to talk to me now?" she asked softly, her voice filled with concern. She trailed her fingertips along his arm until she could twine her fingers with his, drawing him over to her bed.

          "I don't think I should …"

          His words died on his lips as she shushed him, climbing into the big bed and pulling him in with her. "I want you to stay with me. Just to sleep, Rumpelstiltskin." She'd found she slept better within the circle of his arms and if she had to use the dagger's thrall to get him to comply, so be it. But he spooned against her back of his own free will and buried his face in the curls at her nape, sighing contentedly.

          Once again, she twined her fingers with his where they lay against her belly before asking him again to confide his worries in her. "I don't want you anywhere near Regina's mother, pet. Under any circumstances."

          "May I ask why?"

          He closed his eyes and grimaced. It was his nature to keep his secrets to himself, but she had a right to know why he wanted to restrict her movements within the castle. "She's a sorceress, corrupted by evil, who would love nothing more than to crush everything I …"

          "You what?"

          He exhaled a hearty breath of frustration and pulled her tighter against his chest. There was no longer room for his denial between them. "Everything I care about." He wouldn't let her turn in his arms, turn to look up into his eyes where his feelings for her were blatantly evident. Not tonight.

          "You care for me, Rumpel?" she asked, her voice full of hope that he might return her feelings, whatever they may be. She still wasn't so certain herself.

          He nuzzled his nose against the side of her neck and kissed the shell of her ear. "You know I do, pet. Otherwise, I would have already found a way to kill you," he said honestly.

          She shivered, realizing how serious he was. Instead of devising a way to do away with her, he'd foregone deal-making for the first time in two decades to spend the day with her in frivolous pursuits. "I care for you, too, my dear Rumpel," she whispered gently, raising their joined hands and placing a soft kiss to his palm. "Now, please tell me how you know of this woman."

          "No."

          "Why not?" she asked, trying once again to turn and look at him only to have him thwart her.

          "I don't want your opinion of me to be any worse than it already is."

          Belle snorted. "You are one of the finest men I know. Everyone thinks you're the big bad Dark One. It is only me to whom you've shown your true self. I won't think badly of you, and I want to know if there is a threat in my home."

          He pressed his brow against her shoulder. He really didn't want to tell her, knew if he didn't want to suffer her displeasure, he was going to have to bend. But she was asking instead of commanding and he found he didn't want this to forever be a secret between them. "She was my apprentice … and my lover," he told her, the last admittance bitter on his tongue. "I trained her in the dark arts. Thought I loved her until she turned against me. She didn't want me, Belle … just my power. She's nothing like you, pet," he breathed wickedly against her neck. "Promise me you'll stay away from her?"

          Belle yawned and scooted back so her body was flush against him, his face pressed warmly against her neck and his arms cocooning her. "I promise." Her voice was sleepy. "Don't let your past eat away at you, Rumpel. She wasn't worthy of your love if she couldn't see what a good man you are. I …" Her words trailed away as sleep claimed her, leaving him to ponder her words and how they crept through him, warming him and bringing a small ray of light to his blackened soul.

 

*.*.*

 

          "Regina, for the sake of the gods, sit up straight in the saddle. You are a lady. Ladies do  _not_  slouch," Cora scolded as she watched her daughter prepare for her morning ride. She was intrigued to find Rumpelstiltskin hovering over the little princess of Avonlea. What intrigued her even more was the way the princess allowed his warm glances and gentle touches. There was definitely more than met the eye and would require more investigation into the matter. Of course, her daughter was as tight-lipped as always. She never wanted to share in Cora's little intrigues.

          Daniel led the horses forward, the two ladies laughing and enjoying the fresh morning air, waiting for the sorcerer to join them, but Cora's snide, shrill voice held him back. "It must gall you to have to bow to the whim of a royal, Rumpelstiltskin. All that power in the hands of mere slip of a girl."

          His lips curled back in a sneer, his spine stiffening in affront. "Do not speak ill of my mistress, witch," he hissed lowly as he turned to face her.

          She trailed her fingers over his dragon-hide coat and purred seductively, "I could get it back for you, my dear Rumpel."

          The beast fought for control over the humanity which had slowly emerged during his time with his mistress, his ears perking up with hope at the lure of his freedom. The spinner stomped viciously on his head, forcing him back into the cage. "I don't want anything from you, Cora. But I will give you fair warning. Stay away from my mistress and I might let you live." With that, he stomped away angrily and mounted the mare behind Belle, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist as they moved out of the stables.

          Cora seethed with fury as she watched them ride away, his rejection burning in the cavity where her heart should rest. Her eyes flashed as she made her way back to the castle to have a chat with Maurice. He should be made aware of how dangerous it was to have his daughter associate with such a creature as the Dark One.

 

*.*.*

 

          Belle slowed her horse to a trot, leaving Regina to race across the field with Daniel not far behind her. Let them have some time together without her mother hovering like a bird of prey over her shoulder. It also gave her more time to ponder her own confusing feelings for her servant. "Rumpel?" He hummed, assuring he was indeed listening to her as his eyes scanned the surrounding meadow.

          "What would you do if I granted your freedom?" she asked, her breath catching in her throat as she waited for his answer. She'd been wanting to ask him this question since he'd taken her to the lake and every time she tried to ask, the words would stick to the roof of her mouth.

          His fingers drummed against her belly, a sign of his nervousness. He could never remain still when he didn't want to answer her questions. She could practically see his inner debate as he tried to find his loophole. He sighed in defeat, his breath tickling the hair at her nape. "I would destroy your father and the holy order of clerics."

          "Is that all?" she asked with a bitter laugh.

          He cupped her cheek in his hand until she rested her head against his shoulder and met his warm amber gaze. She thought of how dark his eyes would turn when he was angry and knew she preferred this softer color. "No, pet. I would take you away with me to the Dark Castle to stay with me forever," he said as he kissed the corner of her mouth. "I know I'm a selfish bastard and would only drag you down into the darkness with me, but I find I want to keep you for myself."

          A fire began to burn brightly within her, a fire fueled with hope. She would be free from the weight of her duty to the kingdom, free from the looming specter of the clerics, free to love Rumpelstiltskin and shout it to the rooftops that he was her chosen mate, free to have a life with him away from Avonlea and free to have love and a family of her own. The thought made her so happy she could have wept. But how could she leave her people and the duty which had been ingrained in her? How could she put herself above that? It would take something dire to banish eighteen years of obligation from her being.

          "I was just curious." She felt him sag against her with disappointment. "I can't let you harm my papa, Rumpel. He may have his faults, but he's still my father and I love him."

          He kissed her temple and urged the horse forward, a small smile on his lips, refusing to let her see his conflicted emotions. Yes, he wanted his freedom, but he didn't want it unless he could have her … and his revenge.

 

*.*.*

 

          The night air was crisp and cool as it wafted through the windows, leaving the chamber at a comfortable temperature. The smell of wildflowers and honeysuckle permeated the air, even in mid-autumn. It was late in the evening. Dinner had been over for hours and the kingdom was settling down into the quiet which followed children's bedtimes. So, the two figures creeping through the shadows at a brisk pace had the hairs prickling along the witch's neck as she watched. They were moving in the direction of the stables and would, no doubt, escape on horseback and she wondered if she should summon a guard to go after them. Surely the king would be grateful to know of the goings on of his little keep in the hours when noble young ladies should be about their bed.

          She summoned a spell quickly to her hands which would transport her below to follow discreetly behind the girls at a respectable distance. Oh, how she loved her little intrigues and wondered about what punishment the unidentified girls would suffer.

          Regina kept a tight hold on the bag in her left hand and Belle's cold fingers in the other as they ran across the courtyard and then the path which led to the stables where her true love waited for her. Belle had convinced her to take a chance and embrace the happiness he offered her. There was nothing in the world worth giving up on love. She was coming to realize her friend was right. She loved her Daniel and she wasn't going to withhold her answer to his proposal another moment. Belle had provided them with the means for their escape and there would be no turning back now … and no way she could ever repay the princess.

          He was waiting for her, their horses saddled and waiting. "Oh, Belle, thank you so much," Regina cried happily, wrapping her arms around the diminutive princess and hugging her warmly. "I promise to write as soon as we are settled. Just promise you won't ever let my mother know where we are."

  1. _MY. GODS. Rumpel is going to kill me._ "I promise, Regina. Just be happy, love," Belle said, sharing in her friend's joy. That joy, however, didn't stop the guilt from burning in her chest. She'd tricked her servant, so she could help Regina and he was going to be furious with her. Her only hope was to see Regina and Daniel on their way before he learned of her absence. "I am sorry you won't be at the ball, but you have to leave now without delay."



          Regina took Daniel's hand and let him lead her to their waiting mounts, freezing in dread as the door to the stable burst open with a gust of purple haze. "Dear, dear, Regina. Leaving without saying goodbye?" Cora asked with a cruel laugh, her lips twisted into a full mocking smile of malice.

          "M-Mother, I can ex-explain," Regina began, withering in her mother's presence and shrinking away in fear.

          "Oh, daughter, I believe it's very clear as to why you're here. But I can't let you go. I'm not going to see you run off with a commoner after all the sacrifices I've made for you," she said, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. With a twist of her hand, her magic drew Regina to her side, a thick blue haze enveloping her and pinning her arms to her side, rendering her immobile and cowering in terror.

          Cora realized her mistake too late. She should have dispensed with the little Avonlea princess first. Belle was the one with the power as the girl shrieked, "RUMPELSTILTSKIN!"

          The sorcerer appeared before them, hair still wet from his bath and a towel wrapped none too securely about his lean hips. "What the …." Belle scrunched her eyes shut as his gaze landed on her, fury flashing in the obsidian depths of his eyes as he took in the situation. "Mistress," he growled through clenched teeth.

          "Help?" she squeaked, making it a question instead of a command.  _So much for me getting out of this in one piece_ , she thought helplessly.

          With a thought, he was clothed in his leathers and boots, his usual black silk shirt covering his torso. The Dark One did not make deals in the nude.  _Although there was that one time …_  He shoved the memory to the back of his mind and cast Belle a glare which promised dire consequences once he'd dispensed with this problem. He snapped his fingers, with their blackened nails, and released Regina from Cora's magic, which was no match for his own.

          Belle rushed to Regina's side and pulled her quaking body over to where Daniel was trying to calm the spooked animals. "Go!" Daniel helped Regina onto the back of her mare and nodded at Belle before mounting his own horse.

          Regina's eyes were filled with grateful tears as she turned her horse toward the stable entrance and spurred it forward. "Thank you, Belle," she called over her shoulder, disappearing with her love into the night. Belle said a silent heartfelt prayer to every deity she'd ever heard of, and some she hadn't, that they would find their happiness. She edged closer to an open stall as she watched the two purveyors of dark magic face off with each other. Cora strived for a confident air, but there was fear in her jade green gaze. Rumpelstiltskin, of course, just looked cocky.

          "Enough of your machinations, witch. Leave the girl to find her happiness. Don't live vicariously through her. You had your chance," he sneered, his tone mocking in his sing song lilt.

          "Oh, Rumpel, she's my daughter. She deserves better than a mere stable hand. She will one day be queen," she intoned, her smile slipping a notch as he inched closer. "Surely she will be happy as queen."

          His smirk never betrayed the roiling anger in him as he faced off against his former lover and he had to wonder how he’d ever thought he loved her. "Last chance, Cora. Take your sniveling husband, leave this kingdom and do not return. Do not pursue Regina. And do  _not_  continue to piss me off."

          "Or what? You have no power except what your little mistress affords you," she sneered in a biting tone, digging in with both feet in an effort to bedevil him.

          "Don't say I didn't warn you, dearie," he said, his lips thinning into a straight line as he plunged both hands into her chest. It wasn't her heart he was after, knowing she'd done away with that unnecessary organ years ago, seeing it as her weakness. No, he was after her magic. The magic he had infused her with, the magic he had trained her to twist into a force which nearly rivaled his own. He could feel it creep under his skin, returning to its master and leaving her weak and powerless, a mere mortal twisted by the evil in her soul. The beast within him roared in pleasure as the spinner ran in fear, cowering in the face of the dark magic swimming through his veins, leaving the Dark One in control.

          Cora fell to the hay-strewn floor as he withdrew, shrinking away from his rage and the cold malice which left his eyes completely black. She had no choice but to obey. She was powerless and praying he would leave her alive, so she may plot her revenge. "I'll leave as soon as I can pack," she gasped fearfully as he towered over her, his hands still glowing with the force of his magic.

          "No, dearie, you'll leave now. I'll make certain your husband returns to you with all haste," he snarled down at her. With a thought, he sent her back to her home in Stratford, alone, powerless and miserable with her hate. He was nearly prancing with glee as he spun on his heel in search of his wayward mistress. "Ohhhh, petttt," he sing-songed. "Don't make me chase you, dearie. It will only make me angry."

          Belle chewed her bottom lip as she peered around the open door of the horse stall, her fingers twisting together anxiously.  “Are you mad?” _Stupid question, idiot!_ she chided herself silently. He was seething with rage and he had no outlet except for her. “I know I tricked you, and I’m so sorry.”

          He stalked forward, his hands itching to lay themselves on her alabaster throat. "You ordered me to take a bath … a bath! All so you could sneak out of the castle and deliberately put yourself in danger! She could have destroyed you! She  _would_  have destroyed you once she had taken care of her daughter's would be husband."

          Belle lifted her chin stubbornly and met his fury with some of her own. "Someone had to help her," she shouted back. "She is my friend and needed assistance. She didn't have anyone else to stand up for her. And technically, Cora wasn’t even here."

          “Yet, you aren’t deluded enough to think she wouldn’t eventually show herself!” His hands grasped her upper arms and gave her a little shake. "When are you going to stop putting everyone else's needs and wants before your own?! You could have been killed!"

          Some of her anger dissipated in the face of his underlying concern. "But I wasn't, Rum. I'm fine because of you."

          He lifted her in his arms bridal style and carried her off toward the entrance of the stables, purple smoke enveloping them before they could reach it and appearing once again in their bedchamber. "You might feel differently after you're punished, mistress. I may suffer the agonies of the damned to dispense it, but you'll suffer, too. Next time you make me a promise, you'll damn well keep it."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know, I know … I'm so horrible to leave you with a cliffhanger. What does Rumpel have in store for his wayward mistress? Hmm … stay tuned my beloved readers. So, I hope you all liked the way I wrote Regina this time. I do adore her. Love you all so much. Thanks for reading my fic! You guys are so great.


	11. PUNISHMENT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A little dub/con smut. Trigger alert. Sorry if it’s not your thing. You don’t have to read it as I wrote it to stand alone to protect more sensitive readers. Reader discretion is advised.

          "Rumpel, please … I'm so sorry I broke my promise … please," Belle pleaded as he set her on her feet on the plush rug in their bedchamber. She could see the struggle to hold onto to his control written all over his face and it was beginning to alarm her.

          He was the Dark One, wielder of the most powerful dark magic in the known realms. She'd just witnessed firsthand what he was capable of. But what could he possibly have in store for her, his mistress? He was more than able to have her reduced to tears in the blink of an eye. She fisted her hands in his shirt, her eyes pleading.

          He ran his hands briskly up and down her upper arms and sighed. "Calm yourself, pet. I can't hurt you; the dagger prevents me from harming my mistress," he snapped honestly, hating himself for divulging that secret, but unable to resist the compulsion. "I can't believe you deliberately tricked me. You went behind my back against every safeguard I set in place to protect you!"

          "I'm sorry. I don't know how I can ever apologize enough to get you to see I'm sincerely remorseful." Her eyes brightened with hope. "How can I make it up to you?"

          The beast poked his head out of the cage and sniffed the air in anticipation before the spinner could beat him back. "You want to make it up to me? You think that will make me forget you broke your word? You want me to trust you, pet, yet you go and pull a stunt like this. What could you possibly do to make up for it?"

          Belle smoothed his shirt with trembling hands and took a step back from him, needing the distance so she would have a clear head to make her decision. She chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. Oh, she really shouldn't do it. It was a bad idea of epic proportions. But what was more important … Her pride or Rumpelstiltskin's trust in her? Her expression was contrite as she stared up into his eyes. The whites had returned, but the irises were still a deep rich obsidian. She knew he wouldn't let go of his rage until he'd punished her for her slight. She  _needed_  him to trust her. And he needed to know she would bend to him just as he did to her. He needed to realize she wouldn't use the dagger against him.

          So, it was with great trepidation that she said, "I give you until the dawn. You are free to do as you will until then." She began to instantly feel the icy hand of dread creep up her spine as he smiled at her, a slow curving of his lips which promised retribution. "I trust you not to hurt me, Rumpelstiltskin."

          "I would never hurt you, pet. Even without the dagger's thrall, I could not hurt you," he bit out, drawing her roughly into his arms and crushing her to his chest, his mouth claiming hers in a bruising kiss which left her breathless.

          "Wh-What are you going to do to me?" she asked, her lower lip trembling, more out of anticipation than fear.

          "You'll see, dearie. I need to fetch a few things from my home, but I will return shortly. Then we will discuss how you are to be punished," he whispered against her mouth and kissed her once more, leaving her lips parted and swollen before he vanished. She wrung her hands together, realizing too late she might have made a mistake.

 

*.*.*

 

          "What's that?" she asked, her eyes wide as dinner plates as she watched Rumpelstiltskin lay out several items at the foot of her large four-poster bed.

          He was nearly giddy with glee and he turned her around and began deftly loosening the ties of her gown. She didn't think anything of it, since he'd done so many times before when Clara wasn't around to help her. She would see in hindsight, she should have been very worried. "Before we begin, we are going to discuss the rules."

          "Rules?" she squeaked nervously.

          "Of course, dear one. There are always rules, even in punishments," he purred against her ear. She gulped audibly. "Rule number one … there will be no pain. If I hurt you at any time, you are to tell me immediately. Understand?" he asked, drawing her gown down her arms to pool about her waist. She nodded, the curls pinned to the crown on her head, bobbing vigorously. "Rule number two … you will be completely honest with me. No matter what I ask, you will give me an honest answer."

          "Got it."

          Rumpelstiltskin unlaced the last of her stays and the gown dropped to her ankles. He turned her in his arms, pleased with the blush which started in her chest and moved to settle in her lovely face as she stood before him in nothing but her silk chemise. "Pink is a lovely color on you, pet," he murmured softly, toying with the ribbon on the last bit of fabric concealing her from his heated gaze. "Rule number three … you will obey  _my_  commands without question."

          Oh, how did she know that would be included in his precious rules? She wanted to smack herself for ever willingly offering this solution to their trust issues. "Fine," she huffed, trying in vain to hide her nervousness. "Can we just get on with it?"

          His smile was back as he whipped the garment over her head, leaving her naked before him. She screamed as he tossed her over his shoulder and carried her to the bed, laying her down gently and placing a hand to the center of her chest to keep her from rising again. "Lie still, dearie. And don't worry about screaming. I've soundproofed the room and locked the doors." He loomed over her, so he could have a better view of the fear in her eyes, his nose brushing against hers. "Don't be afraid, my Belle."

          She gasped, hearing the possessiveness in his voice. Her tongue darted out to wet her suddenly dry lips, and his gaze dropped to her mouth. He left her there and moved to the end of the bed to examine the items he'd brought from the Dark Castle. She heard him snort and mumble something under his breath which sounded like, "Get on with it, indeed." She raised her head off the pillow to watch him as he took what appeared to be a silk scarf and wrap it around her ankle and then around one of the posts of the bedframe, pinning one leg to the bed.

          He did the same to her other ankle before he glanced up to meet her gaze. He frowned when he saw the moisture gathering in her eyes and moved up the bed to kiss her gently. "Don't be afraid, dear one. I have no plans to pluck your flower this evening. This is an exercise in trust. Do you trust me?"

          "Y-yes," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady and failing miserably.

          Rumpelstiltskin took her hands and wrapped another silk scarf around her wrists, binding them together and looping the other end around the headboard, securing her in place. She huffed out a great sigh of relief as he left her there and walked behind the sheer curtain into his room. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad, she thought, forcing herself to relax against the pillows. Was he just going to leave her tied up all night? How bad could that be? The bonds weren't even uncomfortable. He could have used a rope which would have bitten painfully into her skin. She closed her eyes and tried to relax. After the day's events, she was bone weary and in need of sleep.

          The mage sat down on his bed and leaned back against the wall, already regretting the plan which had formed in his mind for his traitorous little mistress. How was he going to mete out her punishment if he couldn't control his lust? With a wave of his clawed hand, he donned his cotton sleeping pants, instantly feeling relief from the constricting leather. He ran his hand through his wild tangle of brown curls and watched Belle settle comfortably against the pillows. If he left her there too long, she was sure to go to sleep and he couldn't have that.

          Belle's eyes flew open as she felt the bed move near her bound feet. They widened as he sat between her ankles, surveying his handiwork. Her lips parted on a gasp of appreciation as she took in the bare flesh of his chest, all golden and tempting in the light of the candles. She could feel the heat coiling in her belly as his eyes moved up her body and then down again, settling on the curls at the apex of her thighs. She was helpless, at his mercy, a feast laid out before a starving man as he knelt before her and trailed his lips across her thigh, never kissing her. Just the soft touch of his lips as they trailed across her flesh. She sucked in a deep breath as they trailed over her soft belly and the valley between her breasts, stopping at her neck so he could take a moment to breathe her in. Finally, he raised his head to meet her startled gaze, her eyes so dark a blue, he couldn't mistake the desire pooled in their depths.

          His voice was a horse whisper as he asked, "Nervous?"

          She nodded slowly, biting her lip to still its trembling.

          "You should be," he taunted, his mouth lifting in a half-moon grin. He moved from between her legs and reached for the tray of oils he'd retrieved from his home, selecting one and removing the stopper. He held it close to her nose. "Roses, pet. It will go well with your own sweet scent." He poured a good dollop over her chest and she gasped at the sensation, causing his grin to widen. "These oils are special. Would you like to know why?"

          "Why?" she breathed, unable to find her voice as his hands smoothed over her breasts, smearing the oil in languorous circles, never touching where she really wanted him to.

          "These oils are cool to the touch until you add the heat of your hands. As it is massaged into your skin, it gets … hot. Can you feel the heat, my pet?" he asked as his hands skated over her collarbone fleetingly before returning to her breasts. He poured more oil over her abdomen and began again, smoothing it over her belly and tracing over her ribs. "Answer me, my Belle," he coaxed.

          "Yes," she whimpered and arched into his hands as they returned to her breasts, crying out as he leaned over her and took one taut nipple into the hot recesses of his mouth. He used the fingers of his other hand to gently pinch the other. His tongue swirled about the nipple in his mouth and she pulled against her bonds, aching to delve her hands into his hair and hold him to her. He used his teeth to scrape it gently before he took her other breast in his mouth and sucked greedily, needing to hear her moan and feel her respond to his gentle caresses.

          "Does it feel good, my little mistress? Do you want me to stop?" he teased, trailing his lips over her stomach and dipping his tongue into her navel. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as his fingers brushed against her soft curls. He laid down between her legs and rested his chin on the top of her right thigh, his eyes intent on her face. "Tell me what you want, pet. I want to hear you say it," he commanded.

          She glared at him, her eyes pleading. How was she supposed to tell him what he wanted to hear, when she didn't know herself? She only knew she was burning for him, heat racing through her veins, her flesh scorched by his touch. He nuzzled at her curls, breathing in her heady scent. "Touch me," she pleaded, her voice raw with passion.

          His hips bucked involuntarily against the mattress, his erection straining painfully against the cotton as he gingerly ran his tongue along her slit. Her hips rose to meet him, and he had to press a hand to her stomach to hold her still. The keening sound erupting from her throat was proof he pleased her as his tongue slipped deeper into her folds and swirled it around the tight bundle of nerves hidden from his view. She whimpered when he drew away from her, reaching for the vial of oil and coating his hand with it.

          He ground his teeth together and clenched his eyes closed as he thrust one lone digit into her dripping sheath, her tight walls closing around him and pulling a moan from his own lips. With slow thrusts, he worked the oil into her until it mingled with her own natural wetness before his lips, teeth and tongue returned to her. She was nearly in tears, unfamiliar with the deep sensations of pleasure he was evoking in her, not understanding the pressure building towards her release unfurling within her. He could feel how close she was and all he could think about was how badly he wanted to bury himself deep within her and claim her for his own.

          With an iron will, he pulled away from her and collapsed on his back, his breathing ragged, suffering from unrequited lust just as much as she was. He laughed when she lifted her head from the pillows to gape at him.

          "Rumpel, why … why … why did you stop?"

          "Just rest a bit, pet. We'll begin again in a bit," he croaked, rising from the bed after he placed a quick chaste kiss to her lips.

          "What? You're just going to leave me here … like this?" she asked incredulously, trying to press her thighs together to relieve the throbbing ache in her core, but the scarves around her ankles wouldn't allow it. "Rumpel, please," she begged.

          "It's alright, dearie. I shouldn't be too long."

          "Where are you going? You're leaving me? But —" she protested, her body raging with the fire he'd ignited within her.

          Purple smoke enveloped him, transporting him to the topmost peak in the mountains surrounding the Dark Castle. With a heavy groan of frustration, he lowered himself face down onto the snow-covered ground, steam rising around his heated body as he prayed the icy powder would cool his ardor before he had to return to his mistress and start all over again. One thing was certain, she would regret breaking a deal with him.

 

*.*.*

 

          Dawn would soon be making its first streaks across the horizon and then her torment would come to an end, Belle thought, nearly delirious from lack of sleep and over stimulation. The soft breeze coming through the archway brushed her skin and she moaned, even that gentle caress of air too much for her heated flesh to handle. Over and over again at the beginning of every hour, he would return to her side and begin again. She knew everything there was to know of his touch. Each time, she thought he would end her torment and help her find release. And each time, just as she was about to fall into the arms of bliss and release, he would draw away from her and leave her wanting and in need.  _I hope the bastard is suffering just as much as I am_ , she thought bitterly.

          Tears sprang to her eyes as she felt him lie down beside her, his hands reaching for her fevered body once more. His lips brushed her temple as he drew her into his arms and held her tenderly. She sobbed into his neck, her breath hitching in her throat at the thought of what more she would have to endure. He tipped her chin up and brushed away her tears, shushing her gently.

          "Shh, my Belle. It's almost over," he crooned, pressing his lips to hers. "Now, we're going to have a little chat, you and I," his voice serious as he propped himself up on his elbow. He couldn't touch her just yet. He didn't know how much more of his self-inflicted torture he'd be able to take himself.

          "You want to talk?" she groaned, turning her head away to hide it against her arm. "I have nothing to say to you."

          "Yes, pet. This was part of our deal. Now … are you ever going to break your word to me again?" he asked, taking her breast in his hand.

She sucked in her breath on a sob as his hand gently kneaded her flesh, the continuous ache in her core throbbing painfully. "No … I promise. Please, Rumpel. I can't take this anymore."

          He turned her head, forcing her to meet his gaze. "I didn't mean to make you cry. Well, I did, but not like this, pet." A snap of his fingers and her bonds disappeared, allowing her to lower her arms to his shoulders. He wasn't expecting her to wrap them around his neck and bury her face in the crook of his shoulder, seeking comfort from the monster who had just put her through this ordeal. "Shh. It's alright, my Belle," he whispered against the shell of her ear and rubbed his hand down her back in soothing circles. "Don't cry. Can't you see now how seriously I take the matter of your protection? She could have killed you. She could have snatched your voice away and you couldn't have called me for help."

          "Why does it even matter? You said yourself, I'm just another spoiled princess … that …" Her voice trailed off as his lips brushed against hers, coaxing them to open so he could delve his tongue inside to taste her, kissing her slowly, pouring his heart into it.

          "You matter, pet. I didn't realize before how much you matter," he whispered fervently, unwilling to admit to more. As gently as he could, he trailed his nails along her fevered flesh until he could slip his fingers into her dripping core once more, swirling his thumb over her clit as he thrust inside. "Relax, little dearie … I won't leave you this time. I think we've both suffered enough."

          At the same time, she pressed herself more tightly to him, she also wanted him to stop. "I don't want this, Rumpel … I want you … I want you inside me. Please. I need you," she cried, unable to be still any longer, her hands free now to touch him.

          "No, pet. Not now. You deserve better for your first time. That's one gift I won't take from you," he said, the words falling between them and twisting his heart. He'd never wanted anything more than to sink into her warm body and claim her. She was  _his,_ she wanted him, and it was killing him to deny her. Her inner walls clenched him tightly as she found her release and he could imagine the ecstasy he could have found with her. Her breathing was labored as she panted against his shoulder, her body limp in his arms, having finally found relief.

          She was as weak as a kitten as he collapsed next to her and threw an arm over his face, panting himself. Dawn had made its appearance and he was captive once more, once again merely her slave. Not her lover, but her _slave_. Belle curled into his side and rested her cheek against his chest over his heart.

          "Please, pet. Don't touch me just now," he asked, his voice still raw with desire. Her punishment had taken its toll on him as well and now, under her spell once more, he wasn't able to return to the mountain peak for a dip in the icy snow.

          "It's dawn, Rumpel."

          "I know."

          She raised her head, her eyes heavy-lidded with weariness. "Why didn't you … um …"

          He looked down at her with an amused smile as a blush rose in her cheeks. "Because I didn't punish you this way, so I could ravish you, dearie. I'm still amazed you allowed it in the first place."

          "I wanted to prove you could trust me. I thought by giving you freedom to do what you liked would be the easiest way," she said earnestly, placing a kiss on his chest and sliding her hand along the flat plane of his stomach.

          He caught her hand before it could drift lower, his muscles rippling under her palm. "Yes, my sweet Belle. You've earned my trust once more."

          Her blush deepened as she raised her eyes to meet his which had finally reached the color of warm amber, his anger gone. "Then trust me now and lie still. Don't move," she commanded. He could do nothing but obey, a frown puckering his brow.

          "Mistress, what …" His voice turned into a whimper as he was forced to release her hand. The same hand which was steadily moving to the ties of his pants and releasing him from the confining garment. "Belle!"

          She grinned wickedly up at him as she took him in hand. She hadn't realized a man could make a sound like that, a sound caught somewhere between let-me-fucking-die and oh-gods-please. She stroked him, watching the myriad of emotions play across his face, his hips bucking against her fingers. "You can move, my love," she cooed against the corner of his mouth before she ran her tongue over his lower lip and bit gently. His hand covered hers, guiding it in a faster rhythm until he came apart in her hand, his brow falling to her shoulder as he shuddered with pleasure. Never again would he use that particular punishment on his mistress. He didn't think his heart could take it.

          "You didn't have to do that, pet," he breathed raspily into the crook of her neck. He had so wanted to mark her, but he didn't think her father would have approved and it would have just brought the king's wrath down on Belle, he thought with a thoughtful frown. He absently sent up a puff of magic to clean them up and produce a nightgown for Belle. He urged her back against the pillows and wrapped his arms around her, curling against her.

          "I know, Rumpel. But if you felt anything like I did, you needed it," she smiled sleepily, snuggling back into his arms and closing her eyes. He pulled the blankets up about them and yawned.

          "What about breakfast?"

          "I'd rather sleep. Clara will check in on us and make sure we aren't disturbed. We can spend the entire day sleeping if we like," she said, her voice slurred as slumber rushed to take her.

          He pressed his nose against her hair and thought his mistress had finally come up with a good idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Seriously, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. Will update soon … promise!


	12. BIRTHDAY

 

          "Milady! Belle, you must get up, dear," Clara whispered frantically, shaking her none too gently. The Dark One's eyes flew open, coming to full awareness and grasping the maid's hand away from his mistress.

          "What is it, woman?" he asked quietly, feeling Belle stir against his chest, her arms tightening about him and a frown creasing her brow.

          "Her papa is in the sitting room demanding to see her," she hissed, wringing her hands with uncertainty. "The two of you better get up and you might want to use a little of your hocus pocus to get her dressed … immediately." With that, she scurried from the chamber to stall the king.

          Belle groaned and swung a leg over both of his as he began to shake her awake. "Mistress, we have a visitor."

          "Tell them to go away," she stated, cranky and irritable at being disturbed. "I want to sleep, Rumpel. I'm still exhausted after what you put me through last night."

          Rumpelstiltskin graced her with a truly evil grin which should have had her instantly worried. He settled back against the pillows and pulled her more securely against his chest. "Whatever you say, mistress. I didn't know you were so willing for your father to catch us abed," he snarked dryly, his shrill laughter ringing through the chamber.

          Belle gaped at him for a mere second before she crawled over him. Her feet hit the floor at a run, headed to her wardrobe for a day gown. "Oh. My. Gods!" she shrieked as she nearly ripped the door from its hinges. Rumpelstiltskin waved his hands and clothed her in a simple leaf green gown, complete with shoes. She glanced at him gratefully as she headed to the door which led to her sitting room. "Thank you," she called over her shoulder, disappearing from view.

          He climbed out of bed and dressed in his usual black, having no intention of joining them for tea. The wards he'd placed on the room would protect her. He sat at his spinning wheel, casting an absent hand at the bed to set it to rights. He wasn't expecting her to let him into her inner sanctum,  _their_  inner sanctum. They were followed by Clara holding up Belle's ball gown the king had had commissioned for the following evening, laying it carefully on the bed.

          "What the hell is he doing in here, Belle?" her father demanded, an angry flush rising in his already ruddy features. Rumpelstiltskin merely glared at him through the spokes on the spinning wheel, holding his tongue. He had been wondering how long it would be before Belle's living arrangements came to light.

          "He lives here, Papa. Where else would he be?" she asked, biting back a laugh, her face a mask of innocence.  _Oh, if he only knew what we'd been doing the past evening._  She pointed to the room at the back of their chamber for clarification. "It's all perfectly fine, Papa. Rumpelstiltskin doesn't feel  _that way_  about me," she assured, lowering her voice as if she were embarrassed to be speaking of such things with her father. The sorcerer's tongue was going to be raw for a week as hard as he was biting it to keep his satirical wit in check, concentrating on his spinning.

          Maurice gaped incredulously at her. "He should be in the bloody dungeon, that's where!" he railed as he began to pace about the room. "He should  _not_  be in here with you … sleeping in the same room … sharing your personal space."

          Belle gnashed her teeth together in irritation at the intrusion and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at her father. "Well, he can't very well guard me if he's locked away in the dungeon," she retorted dryly, raising her chin in defiance. "Is there a reason you've come here today, Papa?"

          Maurice shuffled over to the bed and ran his fingertips over the ball gown which had been draped over the bed. "I wanted to make certain you liked your gown, my girl," he tried tempering his ire, changing the subject. He would deal with his wayward daughter soon.

          Belle stepped over to inspect the gown, her brows creasing as she took in the style and color. "Rumpel, what do you think?" she asked, wanting his opinion.

          "It's pink," he sneered, raising a sardonic brow before returning to his spinning.

          "Obviously," she quipped. "Do you think you could elaborate?"

          "Half the maidens at the ball are going to be wearing pink … no doubt, the exact same shade." He gave the gown a critical look. "It should be sapphire blue to bring out your eyes. Perhaps with golden thread running through it. You would have the other maidens pea green with envy because you would outshine them all. You are the birthday girl, after all. The ball is being held in your honor, so you should be different." He used an offhanded tone for the king's benefit as though he couldn't care less about what his mistress wore to her silly ball.

          Belle's princess mask of indifference and coldness was firmly in place. "Could you fix it?"

          "Of course," he replied, rising from his stool behind the wheel and walking over to join her, keeping a respectable distance. He studied the gown and called his magic to his hands, running them over the fabric and changing its color to a deep sapphire blue. It was a lovely style, the bodice fitted and coming to a point at the waist, the neckline cut square and the three-quarter inch sleeves flaring slightly. He trimmed the sleeves in gold lace as well as adding some to the neckline. He made the underskirt of the same lace and ran golden thread throughout the overskirt in an intricate pattern. Perhaps later he would tell her the golden lace and thread were spun with his own wheel. Pleased with his work, he stepped away from the finished gown and bowed to his mistress. Her eyes were shining with excitement and pleasure, and it was all the thanks he needed. Still he asked, "My mistress is pleased?"

          Before she could ask, he held out a pair of low-heeled slippers to match the gown. "Thank you, Rumpel. It is truly amazing. What do you think, Papa? Isn't it beautiful?" she asked, daring him to find fault with it.

          The king was less than pleased she'd found pleasure with the imp's modifications. He'd liked the pink gown the way it had been. His daughter had grown more and more stubborn and infuriating since the sorcerer had entered her life and he had no one to blame but himself. He'd had more than one person come to him in concern that she was growing entirely too attached to her slave. Yes, his announcement at the ball couldn't come at a more perfect time, he decided.

          "Lovely," he drawled in a dull tone, his displeasure evident. "Are you ill, my girl? We missed you at breakfast."

          Belle fought against the blush which threatened, failing miserably and hoping her father wouldn't think anything of it. "I couldn't sleep last night, Papa. So, I had Clara fetch me some tea and decided to read until I felt sleepy. It was near dawn before I went to bed and decided to sleep late. I hope I didn't upset you," she said, ducking her head and peering at him from beneath her lashes.

          Rumpelstiltskin snorted from his perch in the corner as Maurice hugged his daughter and placed a kiss to her brow. "Of course not, my dear. I'm just pleased you aren't ill. I hope to see you at dinner. Prince Evan, or should I say, King Evan arrived this morning and you weren't there to offer greetings. Also, Sir Riche, Earl Peverell and his son, Sir Gaston and Lady Moore."

          "Oh, Papa, why did you invite Gaston?" she asked with a loud groan, a sound the sorcerer had never heard from her before. The wheel stopped as he looked up at her with a querulous look. "He's such an odious bore. He thinks ladies should not be allowed to read, that a woman is good for nothing more than bearing twelve sons and being an ornament for his arm. I know you're very good friends with his father, but I can't abide his presence."

          "He's not so bad, Belle. You just need to take the time to become acquainted," Maurice insisted, refusing to meet her gaze. He ignored the huff of air she let out in her agitation. "I will see you at dinner then, my dear."

          Belle pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes and fought back a scream as Maurice swept from the room. She was so furious with his high-handedness, she was ready to throw something … hard. Sensing her inner turmoil, Rumpelstiltskin rose from the wheel and went to stand behind her, his arms wrapping around her as he rested his chin upon her shoulder.

          "Would you like me to turn him into a snail, pet?" he asked, nuzzling his nose against her neck, his breath tickling her ear. She laughed half-heartedly and leaned back against him, taking comfort from his embrace.

          "Just say the word. He can live in the garden," he kept his tone light and teasing. He didn't want to frighten her, but he knew his former master well, could read him like a book. Tomorrow, the ball would present Maurice with an opportunity to cause mischief. He was as sure of it as he was of his own power. Belle would be hurt, and he would have to kill the bastard. Then his precious mistress would hate him forever. And he knew he would sacrifice the king to protect her, to save her … and something else he refused to admit even to himself.

          "Ask me again tomorrow night, hmm?"

 

*.*.*

 

          Belle looked enchanting in the sapphire and gold ball gown and it took his breath away to see her dressed in it, knowing he'd made the alterations which pleased her so much. But something was missing. "Where are your jewels, pet?" he asked, running one lone fingertip over her collarbone while Clara tied the laces at the back of the gown.

          Belle gave her head a little shake and tore her gaze away from his warm amber eyes to point over to her vanity where a simple sapphire pendant awaited her. "Why, did you want to help me put it on?" she asked teasingly, heat arcing through her, clearly aware his hands would linger and his lips would caress her throat. He'd kiss her, and she would lose herself in his touch.

          Rumpelstiltskin raised a knowing brow and smiled softly as he watched her eyes darken with desire. He was still amazed it was him she desired instead of one of the knights her father was constantly throwing in her path, hoping against hope she would fall desperately in love and wish to marry one of them. But she didn't. She wanted her beast, her monster of legend, the Dark One. If she was ever to be queen, she would have to put away her fascination with her servant and choose someone suitable. He didn't want to think of the day when he'd lose his unwanted mistress, having to share her. The beast poked his head out of the cage and smacked the spinner.

 _What is wrong with you?_ the Dark One growled ominously.  _You are getting soft. The Dark One is not soft. You were supposed to seduce her into granting your freedom, you pathetic fool. You weren't supposed to be nice and kind to her. You weren't supposed to desire her. And most assuredly you weren't supposed to fall in love with the chit!_

          The spinner beat him back towards the cage.  _I am_ not _in love with my mistress,_ he insisted.

_Then why didn't you take her last night? She was practically begging you to bury yourself in her flesh and you resisted. Idiot!_

_She deserves better._

_I can't believe you are worried about her feelings in this matter. She doesn't matter. Only the dagger matters, your power, your freedom. Get a grip, Spinner._

_I will not hurt her._

_Let me play with her. Send yourself away and let me deal with this problem for you. You will have the dagger back in your possession by dawn._

_Nothing you say will change my mind._

          The Dark One roared in fury as the spinner gained ground on him and pushed him toward the open door of the cage.  _Fool! Do you really think she could return your feelings? She's merely toying with you. You are no more than a plaything to her. She will crush you beneath her boot as soon as she finds someone who catches her fancy._

_I don't love her, so it's of little matter._

          The beast laughed as the cage door slammed shut in his face.  _You'll see, spinner, and then I'll be free. We all know you could never deal with rejection. I'll be seeing you again, very soon._

          Belle reached up and brushed the hair away from his eyes, her touch gentle as she wondered at his silence. "Rumpel, is anything wrong? You look so far away. What is it?"

          He hid his inner turmoil behind a grin. "I was just … I need your permission to retrieve something from my home." He had the perfect accessories to go with her lovely gown. It was her birthday and he knew the other gifts she received this evening would pale in comparison next to his.

          "Oh, of course, Rumpel. But don't be long, please. I want you to escort me down to the ballroom," she smiled, letting Clara pull her over to the vanity to dress her hair.

          He nodded and poofed out of sight. Clara shrieked in surprise moments later when he reappeared behind her, his eyes meeting Belle's in the mirror. He handed Clara a handful of sapphire and diamond studded hairpins for Belle's hair and excused himself to give her time to get ready. He hadn’t been invited, would only be seen and heard by his mistress, so there was little point in changing out of his usual black. No, he wasn't good enough to associate with her peers, not that he wanted to anyway. But Belle did. She wanted to dance with him, to share her meal with him, to stroll in the garden to take in the autumn air with him. He hated to disappoint her. Perhaps …

          "Milady, you look absolutely lovely," her maid declared. "Why don't I fix you a spot of tea to calm your nerves before you go down?"

          Belle stared at her reflection as Clara left, knowing she wouldn't see her again until the wee hours of the morning. She'd wanted to give her time to herself before she was put on display for the kingdom. She watched Rumpelstiltskin through the mirror as he moved to stand behind her, his hand going to her hair and touching the soft curls held in place by his jeweled pins. "Lovely, mistress."

          "I'll return them to you after the ball. Thank you for thinking of them," she said, turning around on the bench and taking his hand in hers.

          "There's no need." He pulled her to her feet and over to the sofa before producing a small velvet bag and setting it upon her lap. "Happy birthday, mistress," he murmured, his voice a warm caress.

          Her fingers fumbled with nervousness as she untied the drawstring and dumped the contents in her lap. "What did you do?" she gasped, taking in the jewels which now rested in her hands. "Rob a pirate of his treasure?"

          He smirked as if offended. "I don't associate with pirates, pet. These were part of a deal. A certain queen wished for me to restore her beauty. My price was the jewels you see before you. She didn't wish to part with them at all. I had to return to her three times before she was desperate enough," he chuckled. It was true. Prince James's adoptive mother was quite vain. "I remembered these and thought they would complement the gown."

          She raised the necklace and gasped at the weight. It was a sapphire, the size of a quail egg, surrounded by small topaz stones on a lovely filigree chain made of gold. It had to be worth a king's ransom and he was giving it to her as a birthday gift. There were also earrings and a bracelet with the same stones and she knew without a doubt they would indeed complete her overall appearance. The few pieces of jewelry her father had given her over the years had all been passed down from her mother, but nothing she owned was comparable to this.

          "Rumpel, these are extraordinary. Surely you don't mean for me to keep these," she protested. This was the sort of gift you received from one's husband, not one's slave.

          He took the necklace from her and hopped over the back of the sofa to fasten it around her delicate throat, the pendant resting just beneath her collarbone. He placed a kiss against the curve of her neck and moved to sit by her once more to fasten the clasp of her bracelet. Only when she'd donned the earrings did he answer. "They are yours, pet. My gift to you."

          Belle moved to the full-length mirror set in a corner of her room and took in her appearance, gasping softly at her reflection. She looked older than her eighteen years, draped in fine silk and gold lace and dripping with jewels. She looked like the women in her father's court, only without the sneering countenance of a practiced courtesan. "I don't want to go down, Rumpel. I have this really horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach something terrible is going to happen."

          His hands settled on her waist, his lips to her temple. "Everything will be well, mistress. I will be there to watch over you," he crooned softly as he tried to ease her upset. "No one will come near you without me being two steps behind you."

          No matter how much she believed he would remain by her side, her unease wouldn't leave her. Everything was about to change.

 

*.*.*

 

          A hush fell over the room as Belle took her father's arm and let him lead her to the dance floor for the first dance of the evening. On either side, noble lords and ladies either bowed or curtsied to them as they passed, and Belle was forced to maintain her composure, refusing to let her guests see how terrified she was. Her father drew her into his arms for a waltz and she felt numb as the first strains of music reached her ears. She tried to keep her eyes on Rumpelstiltskin as her father whirled her about the floor, wishing the imp would whisk her away from the ball and never let her return to Avonlea.

          "What's wrong, my girl? Aren't you happy this evening? It's your birthday," Maurice said, as if that would make everything alright. Belle swallowed against the lump in her throat, panic rising in her chest to smother her. She wanted Rumpelstiltskin, his arms around her, comforting her, protecting her from the machinations of the king and his court and worse … the order.

          "Fine, Papa. I'm just suffering from a bit of nerves," she lied smoothly as he led her to the edge of the dance floor which was now filled with members of the court and guests who had come to join in the festivities from neighboring kingdoms. Maurice left her and moved to sit in his throne-like chair which had been set upon a dais at the top of the room.

          It was a relief to feel Rumpelstiltskin's hand come to rest on her nape, his dexterous fingers easing away the tension. "Relax, pet," he whispered softly against her ear. She greeted her well-wishers with her fake smile and a laugh which sounded entirely too false to her ears. She was very near to tears when her friends finally made their way to her with a girlish squeal.

          "Belle! Oh, my goodness, you look wonderful," Snow White beamed as she drew Belle into a warm hug.

          "Too beautiful to be wasted on this lot," Aurora added dryly, taking her turn to greet the birthday girl.

          "I have never been so happy to see the both of you," Belle said, linking arms with them both and steering them to a quiet alcove to sit down and have a servant bring them something to eat. She glanced over her shoulder to make certain her sorcerer was nearby and breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing for the first time that evening, happily sitting out of the public eye and in the company of friends.

          They talked and caught up on what they had been doing since school had ended, news of their respective kingdoms and any offers of marriage they'd received. It wasn't surprising that news of Belle's new servant had reached their ears. It had spread like wildfire over the entire realm.

          "It's really true, Belle?" Snow asked, glancing about her for prying ears. "He's supposed to be the most dangerous being to ever live. All that dark magic," she shuddered.

          Belle could practically feel the tension rolling off him as he listened, waiting to hear what she would tell her friends about him. "Let me assure you, he is all that he is purported to be. Which is why he is the most capable person to be in charge of my protection." She didn't want to share him with her friends just yet. He was hers and she didn't want to spend the entire evening explaining why she saw him in a different light, or why she understood him, or why she cared for him. That was a private matter to be kept in their chamber.

          "You always were the brave one," Aurora said simply and then ruined it with a snide comment which had Rumpelstiltskin growling over Belle's shoulder. "Either brave or stupid."

          Belle reached behind her without the other girls noticing and squeezed his hand which seemed to appease him slightly. The threesome finished their meal and were forced to accept the many offers to dance from the knights and nobles who lined up to dance with the princesses. She wasn't allowed a moment of respite and had lost sight of her imp. Her feet hurt, and she wanted to go to her chamber, to be alone with her servant, to flee the crowd. Her smile was slipping as she moved to the edge of the dance floor, groaning softly as her hand was captured before she could make her escape.

          "Your highness, might I have the pleasure of a dance," a somewhat bored voice asked to her right.

          Belle sighed in resignation, her eyes following the hand grasping hers up to meet the warmest pair of whisky brown eyes she'd ever beheld. Very familiar eyes, by their shape if not their color, laughter hiding in their depths. His hair was long and straight, reaching past the collar of his gold waistcoat and sapphire jacket, a snowy white cravat tied about his neck.

          His skin was a healthy tan instead of flecked with gold and the smile - that wonderful smile he only shared with her, the one where only half of his lips turned up - filled with mischief.  It was how she knew it was him. Her lips parted in surprise as he pulled her onto the floor and into his arms. He'd done this for  _her_ , all for her. All so he could grant her wish for a dance. And in that moment, as she grew dizzy from his closeness, light-headed from the swirling steps of the dance and his hand so lovingly embracing her waist, she knew she loved him.

          "Breathe, pet," he said softly, and she released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "I figured I would have to take drastic measures if I were to ever be able to get a moment with you. I thought I would rescue you from the oaf who was about to claim your next dance. Couldn't have him smashing my mistress's delicate toes," he murmured dryly, bringing a lovely chuckle to her lips and a blush to her cheeks.

          "And I thank you, my Rumpel. I was despairing of ever returning to your side, and I'm quite desperate to take the air on the terrace," she hinted playfully.

 

*.*.*

 

          "Adrian, do you know who that is? The man dancing with Belle?" Maurice asked as he watched his daughter waltz by in the stranger's arms. "He's dressed like a nobleman, but I can't remember meeting the man."

          "I don't know, your majesty. I don't recall meeting him either, but your daughter seems quite taken with him," the cleric said in that oily voice which bred distrust in the princess, taking full advantage of the king's worries. "It could very well upset the plans you have for her."

          Maurice sighed wearily. "No, no. I'll not change my mind in that respect. I've already signed the contract with Lord Peverell."

          "Truly a splendid match you've created, your majesty," Adrian preened, his voice ringing with approval.

          "Indeed. In a fortnight, our princess will be married to Sir Gaston."

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Don't tell me you didn't see that coming. Our lovers and not going to be pleased … at all. Stay tuned, my pets. Love to you all.
> 
> I’d also like to thank those of you who reached out to me while I was in the hospital over the past four days. Y’all are so awesome! *love and hugs*


	13. BETROTHED

          Rumpelstiltskin led her through the gardens, his fingers twined with hers, savoring the cool night breeze and smell of autumn in the air. He knew his mistress preferred the fall months to any other time of the year. She'd told him one night as they'd sat together on the sofa, sharing the warmth of the fire as she’d run her fingers idly through his hair. She'd been relaxed and comfortable in his presence, something which had never happened to him before.

          No one had ever found themselves comfortable in the presence of the beast before. But his mistress was special, his mistress  _saw_  him. From the moment he'd first laid eyes on her, he knew she would be his undoing, that she would try to bring out that part of him he'd kept hidden for centuries and make him want to be something better. She could have laid the dagger at his feet at that moment and he knew without a shadow of a doubt he would never be able to let her go.

          It disturbed him how fragile she was. She put on this front of bravado for her people and her family, presenting herself as strong and dutiful and brave. But in the quiet solitude of their chamber, he saw the real her, the fear, the loneliness and the struggle and it only strengthened his resolve to keep her safe, protected. She'd seen something in him, something worthwhile, something which drew her to him like a flame and made him  _see her_  just as she saw him.

          In his human life, his own wife had shunned him, seeing him as a coward, as something she'd like to crush and twist and take pleasure in destroying. His Belle only wanted to make him happy, make him see goodness instead of blackness. She took comfort in the arms of the monster, never making him  _feel_  like the monster. Because monsters didn't offer comfort and solace and warmth. They didn't offer devotion to their mistress. Yet, he did.

          He'd never felt so  _human_ , with human emotions and feelings. If she stayed on this path to the throne, she would have no choice but to marry and produce and heir. She wouldn't be able to spend the night wrapped securely in his arms. She would have a husband to see to that and he could feel his heart wrench and fire churn in his stomach at the thought of her in another's arms. She was his, with or without the dagger's thrall, made for him by the hands of the gods. And she would eventually slip through his fingers, a slave herself to the life which had been forced upon her.

          He was jerked from his reverie as he felt her fingertips graze his temple, brushing his hair away from his eyes. He smiled hesitantly, gazing down at her, so beautiful in the moonlight, his jewels alight against her fair skin and only a rival for her inner light. "Thank you, my Rumpel, for dancing with me," she sighed, sincerely happy with him. She cupped his face in her hands and gently brushed his lips with hers.

          His arms coiled about her waist, pulling her in to rest against his chest, his eyes always watching to make sure no one came upon them on the path. "You seemed nearly on the verge of panic. I had to do  _something_ ," he said as though it should be obvious to her. "I wanted to make you happy," he murmured against her hair, his voice low and husky and filled with emotion.

          "Why am I only happy when I'm with you? I barely know you … yet I feel as though you've been mine forever. I don't have to pretend with you. I don't have to be someone I'm not," she whispered, her hands fisted into his jacket and clasping desperately, needing him to understand.

          He pressed a kiss to her temple and hugged her tightly. "It's alright, dear one. I'm not going anywhere. We have plenty of time to figure it out."

          Belle laughed bitterly, fighting against the moisture gathering in her cerulean eyes. "This is my ancestral home, Rumpel, and I hate it here. I haven't been happy since before my mother died, always feeling like an intruder in my own home. Even when I was at school, being cooped up in a dorm with five other girls, it felt more of a home than here. I hated returning for summers, knowing I would have to hide myself away and be who my father wanted me to be instead of who I am," she confessed, her voice a hoarse whisper which seemed out of place on the night air. "When I am with you, I feel as though I've finally come home. Does that make sense?"

          "Yes, pet."  _Yes, love._ "It makes perfect sense. I … uh … haven't felt like I belonged since I lost my son," he said around the lump in his throat.

          She drew back to look up at him in astonishment. "You had a son? You were really a man once, an ordinary man?"

          He laughed, that genuine laugh he reserved for her, the one which did funny things to her insides. "Did you think I was born this way, dearie? Yes, I was a man once. A humble spinner with a wife and son. I fought in the first ogre war and did something I'm not proud of in order to return to my family. I didn't want my son to grow up without his father like I had to," he told her. Once he'd mentioned his son, he couldn't stop the flood of memories it brought to the surface. He needed her to know what he had been, things he'd done, no matter if she ran screaming from him afterwards.

          "What did you do?" she asked, laying her head against his chest, content to listen to his heart as he shared his past with her.

          "I injured myself, so I would be sent home." He stopped and looked down at her, trying to gauge her reaction. She wasn't horrified or frightened or even disgusted. She merely held onto to him, offering him an ear to listen. "When I returned, I was branded the village coward. My wife … she had never loved me … this made things worse and she left. She took up with a pirate and left me and Bae." He stopped and cleared his throat at the mention of his son's name, feeling the pain of his loss just as acutely as he had the day Baelfire had disappeared through the vortex. "A few days before Bae's fourteenth birthday, the Duke of the Frontlands lowered the age restriction and was sending children into battle to swell the ranks. I couldn't let them take my boy, Belle. He was all I had left."

          "Oh, Rumpel, you don't have to tell me," she assured him, reaching up to brush away his tears. He kissed her finger tips and pressed her hand to his heart.

          "I need to tell you this. I need you to know how the monster came to be," he said, his voice raw with emotions he hadn't felt in so long, he couldn't remember. "I did the only thing a coward could do. I ran with my boy. We didn't get far before we were caught. They wanted to take him then, but …" He couldn't bring himself to speak of his shame. He wouldn't tell of how he'd been humiliated and shamed to save his son for just a few more days. "Bae and I met an old beggar who wove the tale of this mystical dagger which would give us power over the Dark One. He told us … with that power, we could demand the Dark One save Bae from having to fight. Or … if I killed the sorcerer, I could take on his power. I wouldn't have to be a coward any longer, Belle. I could have used the power for good and always protect my son."

          "So, I stole the dagger and summoned the sorcerer. It was the same beggar who'd told us the tale. He tricked me into helping him end his long torment." He paused for so long, she wasn't certain if he would continue. She slipped her hands into his jacket and wrapped them about his back, rubbing her knuckles against his spine. "There's a reason I am called the Dark One, pet. It didn't matter that I had originally intended to use the power for good. The darkness which comes with the power is too strong to fight. It's taken me centuries to beat it back. But all Bae wanted was to have his father back."

          "Couldn't you find some way to break the curse?"

          "The only way to break it is if someone were to kill me with the dagger and take the power as their own," he explained, astonished at himself that he was willingly giving her that information. "Bae even made a deal with me, if you can believe it," he laughed bitterly. "He made me promise if he could find a way to break my curse, I would do it. I never thought he would actually succeed, but he did. He beseeched the Blue Fairy to help him. She gave him a way to travel to a land without magic where I would be ordinary and normal once again, powerless. At the last moment, when we were clinging to the side of a swirling green vortex, I let him go. I was too afraid to give up my power and I let him go without me. I've never regretted anything more."

          Belle held him close, her tears mingling with his as she stood there on the garden path, offering the most powerful being in the realm her care and sympathy. They made quiet the pair. "You are not a coward, Rumpelstiltskin. You can be afraid and still possess courage. Do you think the knights on the battlefield aren't afraid in the face of the ogres? It is the decision which makes you follow through that makes you brave. It had to take great courage to take on a curse to save your boy."

          His Belle thought him brave. Only she would think him brave, he thought ruefully. "You don't know what I've done since, pet. I don't deserve to have your friendship … or whatever this is that's developing between us."

          Belle's rosebud mouth pursed in thought. "It doesn't matter who you were in the past, Rumpel. It only matters who you are now," she said softly, her words filling him with hope. Something which had been lost along with his child. "I'm glad you told me, that you trust me enough to tell me your secrets. I would never betray you."

          "I know, pet. There's too much honor in you." His lips halted in their downward descent as he heard boots crunch on the garden path. His entire demeanor changed as he curled his body protectively around her, his eyes seeking out the intruder.

          Belle peeked over his shoulder and sighed in relief. "It's just a couple seeking the respite of the garden. Much like us," she chuckled, smiling up at him. She pulled a handkerchief from the sleeve of her gown and dried the tears which remained on his face then used it on her own ravaged features to set herself to rights.

          He offered her his velvet clad arm, a small smile playing at his lips. "Shall we return to the party? Perhaps I can coax you back into my arms for another dance," he winked.

          "Why, I would be honored, good sir." She tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and allowed him to lead her back inside, happy for the first time that evening and feeling light in the knowledge they were both damaged yet had the opportunity to heal … with each other.

 

*.*.*

 

          Belle and Rumpelstiltskin were seated at one of the tables set up for her guests, sharing a rather large piece of her birthday cake. One piece of cake and two forks. Propriety and all, she thought glumly. He'd finally gotten her to relax and begin to enjoy herself when the great lummox who was Sir Gaston, only son of Lord Peverell, lumbered up to the table.

          "Your highness," he said formally, bowing low. "I was wondering if I would ever get a chance to speak with you this evening. I wished to offer you my best on the year to come. Happy birthday," He smiled, showing nearly all his pearly teeth along with a rather wolfish gleam in his eye. Belle's stomach rolled over in disgust, upsetting the cake she'd just consumed. Rumpelstiltskin was on his feet, placing himself between her and the interloper. He might not look intimidating with his human visage, but the power he wielded still ran hotly beneath his flesh.

          "Thank you, milord," she said with a polite smile, all she could manage to muster for the knight. "I'm surprised you could pull yourself away from your hunting lodge just to be here and wish me birthday greetings."

          "I wouldn't have missed it," he winked. "Might I have the pleasure of a dance with you, Belle?"

          She felt Rumpelstiltskin stiffen at her side, his entire body seeming to vibrate with power. How could the clueless knight not know the dangerous ground he upon which he tread? "I don't remember giving you leave to use my given name, sir," she remarked, laying her hand on Rumpelstiltskin's arm to belay his wrath amidst a ballroom full of guests.

          "Ah, but we've known each other for so many years," he preened, drawing himself to his full height and towering over them by a good four inches. He didn't mention the fact that in those four years, she'd perfected the art of avoiding him. "I must admit, I would like to get to know you better. What's the harm in one dance?"

          "My feet hurt," she retorted dryly, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

          "But —" the knight protested.

          "Her highness has declined your offer. Now, begone," Rumpelstiltskin hissed, his voice low and deadly with barely restrained menace. His mistress warned him as she squeezed his arm gently. The knight was a threat, one he desperately wanted to remove from her presence.

          One of the king's runners appeared at her side, distracting her. "Your highness, his majesty requests your presence and that of Sir Gaston. If you would kindly join him and Lord Peverell on the dais?" he asked simply, a bit out of breath as he'd had to search the crowded ballroom for her.

          "Yes, Percy, I'll be but a moment." She thanked the man and watched him leave. She gave Gaston a look which could have set him ablaze in flames of agony and gave him her back to address her sorcerer in noble disguise. "I think you'd better change. If my father wants me to attend him, I want to know you'll be near," she whispered so only he could hear.

          Gaston offered his arm, trying to gain her attention, but she refused to acknowledge him until Rumpelstiltskin had disappeared into the crowd to transform back into her imp. She ignored Gaston's gallant offer and began to make her way to the dais where her father sat. She'd barely made it a handful of steps before she felt Rumpelstiltskin's hand at the small of her back, filling her with his presence.

          A chill skittered down her back as she took in Adrian sitting so close to the king, no doubt whispering all manner of vile things in the disguise of council. "Papa, you wanted to see me?"

          Maurice descended the steps and took her hands in his. "I hope you have been enjoying yourself, my girl. It's not every day you turn eighteen."

          She forced herself to laugh for her father's benefit. "You say that every year, Papa."

          "Well, now I would like to make an announcement. And I thought, what better day to give it than on your birthday?" He motioned for Gaston to join them, his father a few steps behind. Belle shivered, the icy hand of dread beginning to clutch at her racing heart.

          "What announcement?" she asked through clenched teeth. Her mind was screaming at her to run, to turn and grab her slave and run as fast as she could.

          "Belle, my darling, I have spoken with Lord Peverell and we have decided a match between our children will secure the kingdom and our long-standing friendship. We've signed a betrothal contract this evening cementing the agreement. Isn't that wonderful news?" he asked, his wide mouth smiling down at her with evident joy.

          Belle blinked at him, her face a bland mask. If Rumpelstiltskin hadn't had both hands digging in her waist, she would have crumpled to the parquet floor. Her eyes shifted to the knight who was smiling as if he couldn't possibly believe his luck. His father was beaming. And her servant was growling and snarling as if he were just waiting for her to give him the command to kill.

          She swallowed down the bile rising to choke her as she turned her flashing eyes on her father, the only hint of her anger brewing in their depths. "I was about to retire,  _your_   _majesty_ ," she said, her voice trembling slightly with rage as she used her father's formal title. Something she never did, making her upset known to him. "Before I do, I would like to have a word with you in your study." She ignored the hand Gaston used to reach out to her, wishing to express his happiness over their impending nuptials. If he so much as touched her, she knew Rumpelstiltskin wouldn't be able to contain himself and would break it off. She held her head high, a sign of her station, as she swept out of the ballroom, leaving her father to follow at his leisure.

          She waited until he had seated himself behind his desk before her composure broke. Her eyes flashed, her cheeks flushed, and her teeth bared. "How could you!" she railed at him.

          "Oh, Belle, you knew this was coming. You're eighteen, now and it's time for you to marry. You've shown no interest in any man who has visited the court, so I assumed you were leaving the choice of your husband in my very capable hands," he explained, waving away her upset as if it were of no consequence.

          She paced before his desk, her hands on her hips as she glared at him. "So, the promise you made me is  _of no consequence_. Is that it? You promised I could marry for love, Papa," she cried, unmindful of the angry tears welling in her eyes.

          "Posh," he scoffed. "Royals, especially royals who will one day be queen, do not marry for love. They marry for alliance. The promise I made you when you were twelve was an indulgence on my part. With the looming threat of the ogres, it will benefit the kingdom to have the added soldiers under Gaston's command."

          She stared at him in horror, her lips parted on a gasp. "You selfish bastard!"

          "You will not speak to your king in such a manner," he blustered.

          "I wasn't. I was speaking to my father!" she shouted back. "You would sacrifice any happiness I could have for your own selfish needs. There are other ways to win a war, Papa."

          "This discussion is closed. You will be married in a fortnight," he informed her icily, his tone brooking no objection. "He is a good man, a brave knight and will make a fine father for your sons. In time, you will learn to love him."

          She crossed her arms stubbornly over her chest and stared her father down. "I. Will. Not. Marry. Him."

          "You will!"

          "Or what? You'll march me to the altar with a sword to my back?"

          "Belle, you will do this for the good of the kingdom. You will do this because it is your duty and you are honor-bound to obey me as your king." He slumped against the back of his chair, weary of fighting with his wayward daughter. "Tomorrow you will travel with Lord Peverell and your betrothed to visit their home … your new home until such time you ascend the throne. I will see you in three days when you return."

          "Never will I forgive you for this, Papa," she hissed as she left his study and slammed the door behind her. Only then did her legs give out from under her, the dam, which held back her tears, breaking.

          Rumpelstiltskin let the cloaking spell fade from his body as he knelt beside Belle and scooped her up in his arms, using his magic to transport them to their bedchamber.

 

*.*.*

-

          The Dark One let her cry, keeping himself silent as he used the remainder of his control to keep the beast caged. He concentrated instead on removing her jewelry and putting it away in her wooden jewelry box which had belonged to her mother. Her tears continued to flow as he removed the jeweled pins from her hair and brushed it out until it gleamed in the candlelight. He helped her out of her gown and wrapped her in a fluffy robe and still she cried. How could such a tiny woman shed so much water without shriveling into a prune?

          Finally, his fury somewhat under control, he allowed himself to sit on the sofa and draw her onto his lap. He stroked his fingers through her long chestnut hair and tucked her head under his chin, offering her a handkerchief and kissing the top of her head. He was at a loss as to what more he could do for her.

          "I need you to tell me what you want, dear one. You have to tell me, so I can fix this," he pleaded with her as her sobs settled into soft hiccups. He'd never hated the king more than he did at that moment. He wanted to hurt her father as deeply as he'd hurt Belle, and a thousand scenarios flashed through his mind as to how he would make the monarch weep tears of blood. "Let me take you away from here, pet. I can give you anything your heart desires. You do  _not_  have to go through with this."

          "I … it is my duty," she wept, her voice trembling. He'd never seen her so vulnerable. He cursed softly at her misguided sense of duty. She also had a duty to herself, a duty to ensure she wasn't downtrodden by those who held more power than she did. And yet she never ceased to amaze him. "Rumpel, I need you to help me. I cannot marry that man. You have to help me escape."

          His smile was nearly feral as he looked down into her blue eyes, wet with tears of despair. "Tell me what you want, mistress. We can leave now," he suggested hopefully.

          "No. I have to plan this carefully. I won't leave my people without hope," she said fiercely, her hands twisting in the front of his shirt, desperate for him to understand. "Tomorrow, while I make the journey to Gaston's estate, I need you to travel south and find my Uncle Hugh. Explain to him what has happened and bring him here to me. You cannot let my father know he has returned, but I have to see him. He is the only hope Avonlea has left."

          "You cannot think I will let you go with your betrothed … alone.” The mere thought of her alone with the oaf was horrifying. “Out of the question!" he seethed, his arm tightening painfully about her waist.

          She placed a finger to his lips to silence him. "It has to be this way, my love. Please don't fight me on this. Once I have secured my uncle's help … I will give you the dagger."

          "Belle, you …"

          "I will give you the dagger and I will go with you … if that is your wish," she uttered so softly he might have missed it, her hands toying nervously with the hair at his nape.

          "You would go away with a monster and dwell in his lair forever, pet? You would choose me … of your own free will?" he asked, amazed with the woman who would give up her kingdom for him.

          "Yes. If my plan works, I choose to be with you, Rumpelstiltskin," she promised, her heart in her eyes. She hadn't told him she loved him, too unsure of how he would react to such a revelation, but he was her choice. He would always be her choice.

          He crushed her to his chest, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck. "You won't regret it, Belle," he vowed, trailing his fingers along her jaw. "And what if your plan fails? What then?"

          "Then I would have to stay."

          "Then we will just have to make certain it doesn't fail."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I can't begin to tell you guys how much I appreciate your support and encouragement for this fic. It means so much to me. Thank you all for the wonderful reviews, for choosing to follow it and mark it as a fav. You guys are great!


	14. WRATH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: The end of this chapter contains violence. I tried not to make it too bad, but you have been warned.

          The Dark One smiled in his sleep as his mistress lightly scraped her fingernails over the flat plane of his bare stomach. If this was a dream, it was one from which he wished never to wake. He inhaled sharply as her tiny pink tongue swirled just beneath his ear and then gently bit his lobe. No, he definitely didn't want to wake up, especially since her hand was steadily drifting hesitantly lower as if she wanted to touch, but was wary.

          "I know you're awake, Rumpelstiltskin," she purred in his ear as she shifted against him, throwing her leg over his hip. When he didn't respond, she cupped him through the soft cotton of his breeches.

          She squealed in surprise when he gripped her wrist and pinned it to the bed beside her head as he pulled her beneath him and settled between her legs. "You shouldn't provoke the beast so early in the morning, mistress," he growled softly against her lips, kissing her deeply, his hands delving into her hair to hold her in place. When she was sufficiently breathless, he teased her with soft nibbling kisses which made her smile. "I missed that."

          "What?" she asked, toying with the hair at his nape.

          "Your smile," he replied in a husky tone, trailing kisses along her jaw. "You didn't sleep at all, did you, pet?" He moved to her side and propped himself on his elbow. He gazed down into her eyes, dark with desire and realized he could happily wake up with her like this every day for the rest of his life. A captive slave to her passions. They'd stayed up until the wee hours of the morning discussing her plan for Avonlea, a plan which depended on her uncle, a man Rumpelstiltskin didn't trust.

          If Hugh Beaumont would step in to fill her role as heir to the throne, then she would be free to live her own life, find her own happiness. She wanted to be secure in the knowledge her people would not suffer her absence, that they would prosper and grow as a kingdom. She had every confidence her uncle would be a good leader. Rumpelstiltskin would just have to trust her judgment. He himself would take steps to make sure the land prospered. He would tell her of his own plan once he had her safely ensconced in the Dark Castle, far away from the machinations of her father and the evil order of clerics who would surely destroy her if they ever suspected she cared for a monster.

          Belle brushed the hair away from his eyes and reeled him in for another tender kiss. "Rumpel, if this works … are you certain you want to take me with you? Are you certain you want to be with me? Forever is a long time to put up with me. You'll be free. You won't be obligated to take care of me or protect me any longer," she began hesitantly, her gaze sliding away from his.

          Rumpelstiltskin was having none of that. He cupped her face in his hand and made her look at him, his warm amber eyes glowing with intensity. "You are mine, Belle. You belong to me. You possess me even without the thrall of the dagger, dear one. I won't leave here without you," he whispered fiercely. "I think you deserve better than me, but I find I'm too selfish to give you up … especially since you have decided only I will do."

          Belle trailed her fingertips along his cheek and jaw. "No one has ever  _seen_  me the way you do. Even though you fought me tooth and claw at first, you were sent to me for a reason, Rumpel." Her teeth worried at her lower lip, drawing his gaze and groan rumbling deep in chest. "I love you."

          "Oh, Belle, no. No, please don't tell me that if you don't mean it," he croaked, his voice hoarse with unshed tears.

          "I do," she said, gasping as he crushed her to him, his face buried in the crook of her neck, his breathing unsteady. She petted his hair, holding him, afraid if she let go, she'd wake up alone and it would all have been just a dream. "I _do_ love you. I know you can feel me through the dagger and know I speak the truth. Do you really think I would promise to leave here with you if I didn't? That I would promise you forever?"

          He lifted his head to look down at her, cradled in his arms with tears leaking down her face. She had never looked more beautiful. After everything he'd put her through, she had still found the courage to love him, her beast. Suddenly, he felt panicked. "Belle, please don't go today. Let me take you to the Dark Castle. I can still find your uncle and bring him here as you wished. I can explain and make certain he follows your plan. Please, Belle."

          It was the fact he was using her name which made her realize just how worried he was for her safety. "I will be fine. It has to be this way, so we don't arouse papa's suspicions. Both Hovarth and Clara will be accompanying me and if I need you, I will call you. If by some chance I can't call you, you should be able to sense my distress."

          "I know, but —"

          "No matter what … until my uncle is hidden away here, until you have completed your task … you are forbidden to come to me," she commanded softly, closing her eyes so she didn't have to see the hurt which washed over his features.

          He angrily pushed himself off the bed to pace back and forth. She'd made it a command to make certain that at least his end of the plan would come off without any interference. "No! Don't do this, Belle. You could be walking into more danger than either of us even realize."

          Belle rose from the bed and sighed deeply, the weight of her life, the life which had been thrust upon her, pressing upon her like a stone. "It has to be like this, my love. Please don't be angry with me."

          He watched her walk behind the screen to dress, giving her a few moments to collect herself. She emerged from behind the screen and gave him her back, so he could tie her laces. His hands shook as he laced her up. This was the woman who had rescued him from a captivity which had nearly broken him. She had offered him friendship and companionship. She had given him her sweet kisses and soft caresses, bringing his touch-starved body back to life with a vengeance until he craved her like a drunkard did wine. She possessed such power through the dagger and never once had she used it, never had she treated him like a slave. And finally, she'd given him her love, she'd shown him he wasn't a coward or a monster. She made him want to be a better man.

          He  _could not_  lose her.

          As she turned to face him, he dropped to his knees before her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in her belly. "Rumpel, what are you doing? Get up off your knees," she insisted, trying to pull him up to his feet and failing. Tears sprang to her eyes and she wound her hands about his head, hugging him tightly. "Please, love. Don't kneel at my feet."

          "There are so many things which can go wrong with this plan, pet. Please don't bind me. You are my priority, not your uncle, not your people … only you." But he knew she would not bend on this. He conjured a dagger with an ornate jeweled handle made of gold. She flinched slightly as he bunched her skirt up over her right leg to reveal her garters and stockings. "Since you insist on being stubborn and reckless, the least I can do is provide you with some way of protecting yourself."

          He slipped the dagger into her garter and pressed his lips in an open-mouthed kiss to the creamy flesh of her thigh, swirling his tongue and then sucking gently, marking her as his. " _My_  Belle. Mine," he said passionately, his voice raw with emotion as he lowered her skirt and stood before her.

          "Yours, Rumpel. I promise."

          He conjured another dagger, this one much smaller and silver, the tip a wicked point. "This one I want you to hide in the bodice of your gown. Just in case you can't get to the one strapped to your thigh, you can reach this one fairly easy," he told her, tucking the tiny blade in the valley between her breasts. "This one won't do much damage to heavily muscled areas. You should try for a soft spot like the neck or … um …" He glanced down, making her blush as she caught his meaning. "Well, you know. Stab him in the crotch and we won't have to worry about the lummox reproducing."

          She tried to laugh, knowing he was trying so hard to lighten the moment between them, but it just wouldn't come. She pulled her courage around her like a cloak and raised her chin proudly. "You should go," she said, fighting back her tears, her voice unsteady. "The sooner you leave, the sooner you can return and fetch me from Gaston's estate." She leaned up on her toes to press her lips to his, the softest kiss he'd ever received, as if …

          Rumpelstiltskin gripped her upper arms and searched her face. "Don't you dare say goodbye to me! I  _will_  come for you," he growled.

          A tear escaped from her eye as she met his fiery gaze. "Remember I love you, Rumpelstiltskin. Now go!" she said, leaving him no choice but to obey. He disappeared, smoke swirling about his ankles, his eyes filled with pain.

          Belle collapsed to the rug in a swirl of silk and wept, fear rising up to choke her. She had grown brave having him with her always and now, she had to go off into unknown territory without him at her side and she was terrified. She felt his loss so completely, she couldn't hold back the sobs which wracked her diminutive form, fearful she'd never see him again. She didn't fear for his life, but her own.

 

*.*.*

 

          Her name lingered on his lips, his hand still reaching out for her, when he landed a hundred miles south of Avonlea in an abandoned field, only a lone windmill for company. Rage, confusion and bone chilling fear did not make a good combination. The mournful scream which tore from his lips and the magic radiating off of him in waves brought the windmill down to a crumbling pile of pebbles and shredded sails.  _How could she?! She is willing to sacrifice herself to save her people and I am just expected to go along with it. I am not going to give up the one thing I've cared about since I lost my son._

          The Dark One turned on his heel and began stomping towards the red glow in the sky, a glow caused by campfires, blood and dying men too stupid to know fighting ogres was not an act of bravery and courage, but one of stupidity. He felt not an ounce of fear, determination to carry out his mission firing his blood as he sent out his magic in search of Hugh Beaumont. Since he had a close familial tie to Belle, his blood should draw the sorcerer right to him, pulling him through the void. He didn't expect to materialize in the middle of a blood-soaked field amidst a raging battle.

          He threw his hands up, palms out to block the blow which would have ended the knight he'd come to find. "Need a little help, dearie?" he asked, his high-pitched giggle startling the man who had closed his eyes in resignation, waiting for his death. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the ogre sailing backward into two others, the impact shaking the ground beneath their feet. He walked back to the knight and squatted down before him on his haunches, so he could peer into his face. "You know I could take care of this little ogre problem for you," he trilled, raising a sardonic brow. "Care to make a deal?"

          Hugh struggled to his feet, his movements awkward and unsteady under the weight of his armor. He glared at the imp. "I don't make deals with demons. What are you doing here? You are supposed to be protecting my niece."

          "My mistress sent me to fetch you home. So, you can either come with me and leave your men without their commanding officer to face certain death, or you can come with me anyway with the ogres vanquished. So, deal or no deal?" he asked, pacing away from the man and surveying the damage the hoard was inflicting upon the town. "Tick tock, dearie, tick tock." He was in a hurry. He didn't have time for the knight to figure his way out of this. The longer the delay, the more his anxiety over his mistress's safety became an issue.

          Hugh narrowed his eyes on the imp, glaring daggers, the screams of his fellow knights shrieking through his ears. "You can really rid us of the ogres? You can keep them out of Avonlea?"

          "Yes," the Dark One retorted impatiently.

          "What is your price?" the knight asked, swallowing around the knot of apprehension lodged in his throat. He knew better than to make a deal with the sorcerer, had watched it backfire more than once on his brother, but what choice did he have if it could save the kingdom.

          Rumpelstiltskin bared his teeth in a feral snarl. "You will do as my mistress wishes. Your brother, the king, has betrothed her to Sir Gaston, son to Lord Peverell. She is opposed to the match and wishes to leave Avonlea, giving up her claim to the throne. She wants to be assured you will be there to step into her place as heir when she leaves. She doesn't wish the kingdom to suffer in her absence. Belle has a great amount of faith in you, dearie. This is  _her_  price."

          "Where will she go?" Hugh asked, stunned at the imp's revelation.

          "You will have to ask  _her_ that," he said evasively.

          Hugh's hackles rose in protest. "So, she's just going to up and leave her home and family? With you, I suppose?"

          "She is mine to protect. Her happiness is all that matters," he spat, his voice low and menacing, daring the man to speak ill of his mistress.

          "And I have no choice in the matter, do I?"

          "Completely up to you, but you're coming back to Avonlea either way."

          "Deal," the knight said grudgingly, gnashing his teeth together as the sorcerer produced a contract and quill, holding it out for him to sign.

          Rumpelstiltskin giggled, the thrill of bloodlust lighting in his veins to burn through him. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Have a seat, dearie, and enjoy the show. Pull your knights in around you while I go have some fun." This action would greatly please Belle, ridding Avonlea of the ogre threat. He'd originally intended to dispose of the menace, but the knight didn't need to know that and now he had a signed contract, bound in magic to do exactly what his lady wanted.

 

*.*.*

 

          Belle brushed right past her father without a word as Hovarth handed her into the carriage which would take them to Gaston's estate. She was far from pleased that her betrothed had decided to ride in the carriage with her and Clara. His father was staying there in Avonlea to hammer out the details of her dowry with the king. It hadn't even looked as though Maurice were troubled by the fact she wasn't on speaking terms with him and Belle was beginning to realize that perhaps she wasn't going to miss him too much when Rumpelstiltskin swept her away to begin their lives together. She couldn't imagine what she could possibly have done in her short lifetime to make her father care so little for her. But this was the same man who had let the order kill her mother.

          "… can't begin to tell you how pleased I am by this match, Belle. I promise you won't regret it, my dear. You are gaining quite a remarkable catch in me. Just think of the sons we will make together …" the knight droned on. Belle wanted to bang her head against the carriage window … hard. She missed Rumpelstiltskin, this having been the longest she'd been separated from him since she'd gained control of the dagger. She felt as though a piece of her was missing, a huge piece of her heart. She had no doubt he would succeed in getting her uncle to bend to her wishes. There was no other man she knew more persuasive than her beloved imp.

          Clara squeezed her hand and drew it into her lap to hold reassuringly. She wouldn't speak of what was on her mind in front of the knight, knowing without words that Belle was feeling displaced without Rumpelstiltskin. A cold child skittered down her spine as she watched the egotistical knight try to engage his betrothed in conversation to no avail. There was just something she didn't like about the man. He had a cruel twist to his mouth which did not bode well for her lady. But if she knew the princess, Belle didn't have any plans to go through with the wedding, much less a marriage. She was in love with the Dark One and Clara was confident he would save her.

          "… hopefully tomorrow I'll take you to the hunting lodge, so you can see my trophies …" he rambled on. Belle shared a look with Clara which clearly said,  _if he doesn't shut up I'm going to throw myself under the carriage,_ as she gnashed her teeth together in exasperation. But she refused to either speak or acknowledge her betrothed. Hopefully, though she wouldn't hold her breath, he would get the hint.

 

*.*.*

 

          "Where could he be, Clara?" Belle asked, fretfully wringing her hands as she paced the spacious bedchamber to which she'd been led. It had been hours since they'd arrived. She'd been forced to have a meal with her betrothed and spent most of her time watching his servants. They were fearful of their master, keeping as silent as possible, their hands shaky and uncertain. Not a good sign, Belle thought as she caressed the dagger strapped to her leg, thankful Rumpelstiltskin had thought to arm her.

          Now, trapped as it were, in this chamber with no lock on the door, her mind turned to her beloved, wondering what could possibly be keeping him. Could he not find her uncle? Had Hugh perished in the war and had not thought to have word sent home to his family?

          Clara poured Belle a cup of tea and led her over to sit by the fire, pressing the warm brew into her hands. "He will come, milady. Have faith in him. Did you not warn him not to come until he'd completed the task you set before him?"

          "Do you think I'm worrying over nothing?" she asked, staring woefully down into her cup. The sense of unease she'd experienced since his departure this morning had steadily grown worse over the course of the day and was now close to full-blown panic.

          "Always trust your instincts, dear. They haven't failed you yet. They were correct about the Dark One, now weren't they? Who would have thought someone such as he could fall in love with his mistress?" she asked with a small knowing smile.

          Belle ducked her head, turning her face to the hearth to hide the blush which crept slowly up her neck. "He hasn't said he loves me, Clara."

          "Just because he hasn't said so doesn't make it any less true, dear."

          Belle smiled over the rim of her cup. "I told him this morning … how I feel about him. Clara?"

          "Yes, milady?"

          "I'm going to free him soon. He's going to take me with him … away from Avonlea," she said hesitantly, worried over her friend's reaction. She knew Clara approved of Rumpelstiltskin for the simple fact he was so very good to her lady, but would she approve of her lady running off with him?

          "Will he marry you, do you think?" she asked after a moment, taking a sip of her own tea.

          "I don't know," Belle said, laughing for the first time since this whole thing started. She was so startled by the question, once she started laughing she was finding it hard to stop. It got worse when her maid joined in. Maybe it was the stress of the situation they’d found themselves in, she thought as she wiped tears from her eyes.

          She sent Clara off to bed, declining her offer to help Belle dress for bed. There was no way she was going to take her clothes off while in Gaston's home. She wanted to be prepared to flee while waiting for Rumpelstiltskin's rescue. She wondered if they would spend their lives having him rescue her time after time from one dangerous situation after another. But she was so tired. She'd had a small nap in the carriage, Gaston's droning, boring voice lulling her to sleep, but she'd had none the night before, preferring to watch her love sleep. She didn't even want to lie down on the bed in her chamber, settling back against the armchair before the fire.  _Soon, my love. Please come for me soon._

 

*.*.*

 

          Rumpelstiltskin landed hard on the path on the garden terrace, his head cracking viciously against a stone bench. The landing was followed by a string of curses, his head throbbing painfully. It had taken him much longer to wipe the town clean of the ogres and he was covered in blood and gore for his efforts. His mistress was going to have a fit when she saw him and order him straight into the bathtub. He cracked one eye open to find Hugh Beaumont looming over him with a look of concern.

          "For a moment there I thought you were unconscious," he drawled, scanning his surroundings and recognizing his niece's garden. "Why are we here? Why didn't you just bring me to the throne room? I need to check in with Moe."

          Rumpelstiltskin rose unsteadily to his feet, smacking his hand against his ear to clear it of the ringing. The battle hadn't been the easiest he'd ever fought. "Belle doesn't want you to see her father just yet. I need to go fetch her from her betrothed's estate. In the meantime," he said, grabbing the knight by his cloak, and magicking them to the dungeon. He must have been on autopilot on the return trip to have landed on the terrace. It would take him a while to recover his full strength. "You can cool your heels down here."

          "The dungeon?" Hugh asked incredulously.

          "Just for a couple hours, dearie. I spent thirty _years_ down here and I survived." He doubled over, falling to his knees and clutching his chest. He could  _feel_  her. He could feel her pain, her distress … her terror. The pain was debilitating, stealing his breath and turning his blood to ice. The knight was leaning over him, trying to shake him back to his senses. "I have to go. Belle's in danger," he rasped out, pulling the last of his reserves to the fore to let the dagger send him to her side.

 

*.*.*

 

          Gaston stood over his betrothed, trailing the back of his hand over her smooth porcelain cheek, pleased beyond measure to have finally achieved the one thing he'd been unable to get his hands on for the last two years. Since the princess had turned sixteen years old, she had been the one prey he hadn't been able to corral. He would have to remember to thank his father once again for such a gift. Peverell would get his alliance with Avonlea and Gaston would receive the one girl who had been unattainable in the entire kingdom.

          No one said _no_ to him. What made her think she was so much better than him? Over the years, he'd sent her gifts only for her to return them unopened. He'd visited court to try to get to know her only to have her remain closeted in her blasted library in avoidance of him. He'd had his father send invitations to parties and hunts, hoping she would join her father at their estate only to have her send her all too phony regards. Why did she think his attentions were beneath her? Finally, she was his. And why should he have to wait? He'd already cooled his heels for two years. The betrothal was just as binding as their marriage contract would be. Legally, she belonged to him.

          But he'd never thought he'd be so lucky as to gain control over the infamous Dark One in the bargain. As her husband, he would have more right to the dagger than even she. He could crush all those who opposed him, and if she denied him, he would use it against her. He would be her consort, ruler of Avonlea. After the wedding, if she displeased him, did he really need to keep her? He could kill her, lock her in a tower, send her away … the possibilities were endless. As long as she produced an heir first, that is. He wondered briefly where she would keep such a powerful magical object. He'd heard it was kept in an enchanted chest, but how hard could it be to trick her into opening it for him? Who could she trust if not her husband? Women knew their place in this land. He had no doubt she would be the same.

          Belle stirred beneath his touch and smiled in her semi-sleep. "Rumpel?" she asked, the name a sigh of pleasure on her lips. The hands ceased its smooth caress and drew away. All thoughts of sleep left her as her cheek opened up beneath a vicious back-handed slap, the pain making it feel as though the bone had shattered beneath the delicate skin. Her eyes flew open to see the angry mottled face of her betrothed staring down at her.

          "Who is Rumpel, my dear? Your  _lover_? The man you were so enamored with at the ball?" he asked, taking her upper arms in his meaty hands and hauling her roughly from the chair, shaking her violently until she thought her neck would snap. "Tell me who he is!"

          “Rumpelstiltskin!” she cried in terror.

          Belle brought her knee up toward his groin as she gained her footing, but he anticipated the move and her knee landed ineffectively against his thigh as he twisted. Tears sprang to her eyes as his fingers dug cruelly into the flesh of her arms, blinding her for a moment before she could blink them away. She couldn't get her hands free to search for the dagger Rumpelstiltskin had given her and panic was rising in her breast, making it hard to breathe, hard to think.

          "You slut! You're probably not even a maiden. Don't worry, my dear. I'll track him down and make sure he knows every which way I took you," he sneered, dragging her over to the bed and throwing her down upon the coverlet. She struggled against his massive bulk as he pressed down on her, his hand delving under her skirt, freeing one of her arms as he did so. He twisted and pinched the flesh of her thigh, his eyes brightening with madness as his hand came in contact with the cool surface of her hidden dagger.

          Belle took advantage of his surprise and used the distraction to grab the smaller blade hidden in her bodice, silently thanking her love for having the foresight to arm her before they parted. Gaston's next words gurgled bloodily in his throat as she drove the blade into his neck. She lay there panting beneath him, heaving against him as she tried to move out from under his prone body.

          The blood was turning to ice in her veins and she felt as though she were about to faint, and she looked down at herself, her hands dripping with her betrothed's life's blood. The sight of the carnage was finally too much for her mind and she gave into the darkness, her last thoughts of her beloved and what he would do when he came to find her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: SORRY! Please don't hate me. You knew it was coming … but so is Rumpel … to the rescue. Love you guys! Be gentle.


	15. RAGE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I tried not to make it graphic, but if I offend someone, I apologize.

          Clara wrung her hands together and shouted for the third time, "Rumpelstiltskin, get your ancient magical ass down here immediately!" If that didn't get his attention, surely the urgency in her voice would.

          The Dark One appeared before her, shaking his head to clear it as he swayed unsteadily on his feet. At least he'd landed in an upright position instead of flat on his back. It didn't help that his mistress's maid was tugging frantically on the sleeve of his dragon-hide coat. His head was foggy, and he was having a hard time focusing.

          She smacked him on the back of his head. "Did you hear me? Oh, come on," she said urgently, continuing to pull him further into the room.

          "Belle!" His knees turned to jelly as he took her in, lying pale and lifeless against the coverlet and he sank down beside her, tears flowing down his weathered face as he took her hand, feeling desperately for a pulse. "No, no, no, no, love, please. Please don't leave me, Belle. I can't do this without you." He ran his hands over her body, searching for wounds, puzzled when he found none aside from bruises on her arms and a nasty contusion on her left cheek. "What the hell happened to my woman! Why is she covered in blood?" he asked, turning to face her servant.

          "I heard her scream and came to investigate. She was crawling from beneath the brute there," she pointed to the princess’ hapless betrothed as he steadily bled out on the floor. "I believe it's his blood."

          He turned, his eyes taking on the color of onyx as he aimed his boots for Gaston's ribs. He leaned down to check for a pulse and wished he could revive the dead man, so he could spend a few days torturing him in the bowls of the Dark Castle. He gathered Belle into his arms and shook her gently. "Why didn't you call me, mistress? Please wake up," he pleaded, burying his face in the crook of her neck. "Please, please, love. Wake up and tell me you're alright." They made quite the pair covered in blood as they were. He from the ogres, she from her dead fiancée.

          "Rumpel, stop squeezing so hard," she whispered against his hair, wincing as she lifted her arms to loop around his shoulders. He only squeezed her tighter.

          "Why didn't you call if you were in danger?!" he railed at her. Now that his grief had dissipated, it was swiftly replaced by anger.

          Clara smacked him again. "Hasn't she been through enough?"

          “I did call …” Tears flooded Belle's eyes as the events of the past several hours came back with stunning force. "Rumpel, is … is he … dead? Did I … did I kill him?"

          "Shh, pet. Don't think on it. Let's get you home, shall we?" he asked, not waiting for her permission. He made Clara grab onto his sleeve and the three of them vanished into the night, leaving the worthless and lifeless body of her betrothed lying in a pool of blood upon the floor. He reappeared with them in the corridor outside the dungeon, giving Clara instructions to keep an eye on the knight who waited in the gloom. "I'm taking her to her father to show him what that bastard has done to her. I'll be back soon."

          Belle rested her head against his shoulder, her face pressed into his neck and her eyes clenched shut. "Why are you so nasty? You look like you bathed in blood. Who did you kill this time, my love?" she asked, her voice a weak whisper.

          He snorted, continuing up the corridor, preferring to save his magic. He had a bad feeling he would need his strength to face his former master this evening, especially after he heard of what had happened to Belle's betrothed. "I helped your uncle. Well, actually I might have made a wee deal with the man."

          Belle raised a cynical brow at him. "A  _wee_  deal? Do tell," she deadpanned.

          He dipped his head to give her a quick kiss on her blood-stained lips. "I made a deal with him to rid Avonlea of the ogre problem," he smirked as her face brightened into a beaming smile. "In exchange for him doing as you ask … which I've already explained. I have a signed contract for your perusal."

          Her arms tightened about his neck as she peppered his jaw with kisses. "I love you, Rumpelstiltskin." He gazed down at her with awe-filled amber eyes. "Is there anything else you've done that I should know about?" she asked.

          He shrugged, and she bounced in his arms. "I may have enchanted the soil in the kingdom to always produce."

          Her eyes widened. "Never another failed crop?"

          "Not one, pet. Can you think of anything else you would have me do for your people? Because once we leave here, we won't be coming back except perhaps once a year … maybe at the winter solstice to visit your uncle," he informed her quite seriously. He wouldn't be completely heartless and selfish to keep her away from her uncle.

          "No, Rumpel. You've done so well. More than I could have ever hoped," Belle said as he booted open the door to the throne room where her father was holding court. She immediately shrank into his embrace, frightened to be wounded and on display in the presence of the court.

          He pasted his fiercest snarl on his face, letting the beast out of his cage as he made his way across the room, ignoring the shrieks of fear from the nobles present, his eyes trained on the hated monarch. The king would pay for hurting his Belle, even indirectly. Maurice motioned for his guards to clear the room, leaving Belle, Rumpelstiltskin, the king and … Adrian, who leaned against the back of the king's gilded throne with a smug expression on his oily face.

          Rumpelstiltskin glared at Maurice as he set Belle on her feet, retaining his arm about her as she swayed dizzily. "Your majesty," he spat out, a deep growl rumbling in his chest. "I return your daughter once more … rescued from those who would do her harm."

          "Why is she covered in blood? Is she hurt?" her father asked, resuming his seat.

          "It's not mine, Papa," Belle said slowly, studying her father. He looked … different. Where was his fatherly concern? Where was the love and worry which should have been etched upon his face? "Aren't you happy, Papa, that I've been safely returned to you?" she asked warily. Something was wrong.

          "What of your betrothed, your highness?" Adrian asked in a cold voice. "Is he even alive? Here the two of you stand, dripping with gore and your betrothed nowhere to be seen."

          "While he was beating me and trying to rape me, I sank my dagger into his worthless neck," she hissed angrily, her eyes flashing at the cleric. "He's dead." She winced and gingerly touched her cheek, her fingers coming away covered in fresh blood. Rumpelstiltskin drew his magic into his hand and passed it over her cheek, healing the broken skin and the fracture which lay hidden beneath.

          "Did you see that, majesty? He's tainted her with his evil. She's murdered a good an honorable man, someone worthy of the title consort. She must be cleansed," Adrian intoned with a sad shake of his head. A flame of madness lit his eyes and he reveled at the cry of fear which escaped her lips. Rumpelstiltskin stepped in front of her to shield her from the man.

          "Marelle!" Maurice called, his voice booming in the cavernous room. The little fairy dressed in green and resembling a jellyfish in her misshapen gown appeared with a pop. Taking in the scene, she sent a spell at the sorcerer and bound him in a haze of blue magic. He'd been so focused on Belle and weakened from his fight with the ogres, he was unable to block the fairy magic.

          "Rumpel," Belle cried, cupping his face in her hands. She whirled on the fairy, seething with furious indignation. "What have you done, Marelle?"

          "My apologies, your highness. I did warn you he would corrupt you, dear. He is evil, and you have been tainted by it. Your father was right to call me to bind the creature once more," she said, hovering self-righteous and proud next to the king's right shoulder.

          Rumpelstiltskin shook his head. "Mistress, don't believe them. I never …"

Belle's hands never left his face, seeking and trying to give comfort in return. "I don't, love. I …"

          "See, majesty. She believes herself to be in love with the Dark One. It's much worse than I had originally thought," Adrian said, his hands rubbing together in anticipation as he thought of the methods they would use on the princess.

          "What? You're mad," she screamed, her eyes alight with determination. She would not let them do to her what they had done to her mother. "Papa, do something!"

          "Adrian, no scourges. I still need my heir. I'll have to find another consort for her, so I need her alive." Maurice ignored the bellow of pure rage which seemed to erupt from the Dark One as he called his guards forward to take him down to the dungeon.

          Belle picked up her skirts and made to follow, but she was seized by beefy hands which held her in place before the king. "How could you do this to me? I'm your daughter!"

          Maurice rose and stomped down the stairs from the dais, his eyes blazing with something which frightened her and made her shrink back into the guard holding her. "Because you are the image of your mother," he spat cruelly, his face twisting into a mask of malevolence. "I had to have the order cleanse your mother for going against the laws of decency governing the conduct of this land. She had to know just because she was queen, it didn't give her the right to break the rules." His voice softened. "I thought you would be different. You are so much like her in her goodness. But you just couldn't do as you were told, could you, daughter? I watched you grow into the spit and image of her and had so much hope for you. But then you had to give yourself to a monster. I suppose now you can share her fate as well. It won't kill you, however. No, I need you after all."

          "You never loved me, did you, Papa?" she asked, sadness and fear causing her voice to tremble.

          "I did, my darling girl … until you chose a monster over your own flesh and blood." He stepped away from her, a sneer upon his royal visage and made to sweep from the room. "Have done with her, Adrian. Make certain you make her submit."

          Belle shrank away from the cleric as he approached her and ran the back of his knuckles over her healed cheek, fighting back the wave of nausea rising to choke her. "I think we'll be able to come to an understanding soon enough. Don't you, highness?" he asked with a cold smile. He turned away, ordering the guards, "Take her to the temple."

 

*.*.*

 

          Hugh pulled Clara back into the shadows at the first sound of the door at the top of the stairwell as it creaked open. He held a finger to his lips to caution her to silence. If it had been Rumpelstiltskin, he wouldn't have needed to use the door. He covered her mouth with his large hand as two guards roughly dragged the sorcerer, bound by powerful, draining fairy magic down the damp corridor and tossed him into the cell at the end. The knight waited until the guards departed before taking the servant's hand and guiding her to the cell.

          "Can you speak?" he asked the imp.

          "That's about all I can do right now," Rumpelstiltskin hissed bitterly, struggling against the magical bonds with all his strength. He couldn't even reach up to wipe the moisture of tears from his face. "They took my Belle. Maurice, that bastard."

          Clara gasped in horror. "What are they going to do to her?"

          "Beaumont, you've got to get me out of here. The king has given my mistress over to the order. I heard him give the command as I was being dragged away," he said, his grief unbearable as he thought of what tortures they would inflict on her.

          The color drained from Hugh's face. "No, not my little Belle. He's already destroyed my Jeanette, he's not going to have my Belle as well."

          Rumpelstiltskin gave him a level stare, realization hitting him in the chest like a ton of bricks, robbing him of breath. "She's _your_ daughter, isn't she? You let that monster raise her, but she's _yours!_ I now see how the king could so callously condemn her."

          "Her parentage is the best guarded secret in the kingdom. Only Maurice, Clara and I know the truth now that Jeanette is gone." Hugh turned to Clara, who was weeping softly. "You need to call  _her._ Marelle will keep the imp down here indefinitely and we need his help. Remember, she owes us. Make sure you make her remember that."

          "If she will answer my call, you mean," Clara sneered, blowing her nose and trying to pull herself together. She stepped closer to the bars, so she could see into the sorcerer's tortured eyes. "When you take Belle away from here, Rumpelstiltskin, you will take me with you. She's going to need me … at least for a little while."

          "As you wish, dearie … if you can help get me out of here. If my mistress dies, there's really no point, is there?" he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. Clara dismissed his words. She knew he loved her lady and it was the grief and hopelessness he was feeling which was making him lash out. She nodded at Hugh and hurried down the corridor.

          "It seems I've misjudged you, Dark One," Hugh murmured quietly. "I owe you an apology."

          "Your only fault was listening to your brother. No, I take that back. Listening to your brother  _and_  letting him have control of the dagger. You did a piss poor job of looking out for the princess, as well," he bit out. He laid his head back down on the hard earth and closed his eyes, trying to feel his mistress, but the magic was blocking him completely. He prayed to every deity he'd ever heard of, and even some he hadn't, he could reach her in time. "That little green fairy, couldn't you just command her to release me? She's patron to your family, which includes you."

          "She's enamored of Moe and follows him blindly. She won't listen to me," Hugh scoffed, sliding down the bars to continue his conversation with the imp. He was weary from fighting the ogres, not having slept in days and this new predicament was draining the last of his strength. "Do you love my daughter? Does she love you in return?" he asked, needing to know when she was gone if she would be happy.

          "Yes, she's said as much," the mage sighed softly, another tear escaping from his closed lids.

          "But do you love  _her_?"

          He wasn't certain he wanted the knight to know just how deeply he felt for his mistress. The lock on the beast's cage rattled angrily, but for once, the demon didn't offer his opinion. The spinner side of him grinned triumphantly and squared his shoulders. "Yes, yes I do."

 

*.*.*

 

          Clara stood in the center of the gardens and waited, having whispered her pleas to the heavens until she was hoarse. She wrung her hands as she paced along the path and waited. Her poor lady, she thought as another sob forced its way from her ravaged throat. She had waited too long to help save Jeanette, she wouldn't make the same mistake again.

          "You don't have to shout, child," a tinkling voice said, causing the maid to whirl about.

          "Rheul Ghorm," Clara greeted, years of servitude causing her to drop into a respectful curtsey. "I'm terribly sorry to trouble you, but I've been sent on behalf of Hugh Beaumont to … call in a favor."

          The fairy's mouth drew into a tight thin line. If she had recalled Marelle before when Jeanette had been killed, and replaced her with another as their patron, she could have avoided this. "What has happened, dear? And please tell me this has nothing to do with the Dark One."

          Clara drew herself up to her full height and scowled at the fairy. "It matters little who it concerns. Our princess is in grave danger and he is the only one who can save her. There is going to be a shift in power in this kingdom very soon, but Marelle will no longer be allowed to serve as our patron. We thought we would offer her back to you instead of allowing the Dark One to crush her, but only if you hold up your end of the deal and fulfill your promise … unconditionally."

          The blue fairy ground her teeth together, a very un-fairylike gesture to be sure, but she nodded and followed behind the maid, tucking in her wings and assuming her human-sized form. "What is it Hugh wants of me?"

          Clara raised an imperious brow at the fairy and smirked smugly. "He wants you to release the Dark One from Marelle's binding spell, of course. He can't very well save her stuck in the dungeon as he is, now can he?"

 

*.*.*

 

          Belle's eyes were wide with fear as she was stripped down to her shift and shackled to a pair of manacles hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room. She bit down on her lip hard to keep from crying out as the cold metal was secured around her wrists. Adrian and the king sat quietly in a corner of the tower room sipping wine and discussing how best to proceed. The bitter sting of betrayal ate away at her as she watched her father, seeing his true character. He was something just as evil as the cleric and she silently cursed herself for not having seen it before.

          Why hadn't she listened to Rumpelstiltskin when he'd tried to convince her to leave? She'd been trying to secure her kingdom, giving her people the best possible future before she gave up her birthright to spend her forever with him. Now, she was a prisoner just as he was and there was no rescue in sight.

          The chest containing the dagger was brought into the room, carried by two of her father's guards. What they planned to do with it, she could only guess. Knowing the sadistic nature of the cleric, she was sure she wouldn't be kept in the dark overlong. Adrian rose and unshackled her right hand, explaining. "We're going to have a shift in power, my dear. To rid you of the Dark One's influence, we're going to have you give control of the dagger back into your father's keeping. It will go a long way in decreasing the severity of your punishment." He laughed coldly. "Forgive me … your cleansing."

          Belle fought to keep the contents of her stomach as it roiled painfully. There was no way she would ever give the dagger to anyone except Rumpelstiltskin. She had promised, and she would keep that promise even if she died to fulfill it. She glanced at the traitorous fairy hovering nearby who was looking at her with pity in her eyes. She just hoped they would make it quick. She glared at her father as he came to stand next to her, the chest now between them. She prayed silently that her beloved would somehow be able to come for her in time.

          Maurice grabbed her wrist in his hand, crushing it painfully in his meaty grip and placing it flat against the lid of the chest. The magic dissolved instantly and opened under her touch. The kris dagger gleamed brilliantly in the dim candlelight, her blood still marring the blade, dried into the grooves of the sorcerer's name. "Take it, Belle."

          "No," she hissed, spitting in her father's face, one last act of defiance on her part. The sting of the lash, unexpected, ripped a high, piercing scream from her throat, the force of it shoving her forward into Adrian who pushed her back and dusted a hand down the front of his robe. Almost as if the contact would taint him with her evil in some way.

          "I said, take it, Belle," he warned.

          "NO! I will not let you harm him again." Another sting of the lash, another scream.

          "We can continue this all night, highness. Eventually you will give in to save yourself," Adrian said in a falsely sympathetic tone. "If it's the Dark One you are trying to save, perhaps I might be able to convince your father to go easy on him … if you co-operate."

          The lash fell four times more before she was hanging limply by the one arm, fighting for breath and a release from the pain, her back dripping blood in rivulets to stain her ruined shift. Her hand shook as she gripped the handle of Rumpelstiltskin's blade in her hand, his name mocking her. She could feel the rush of power pulse through her fingertips and she could only pray he would be returned to his full strength, that his freedom would bring him peace.

          "That's right, my dear," Adrian cooed in his oily voice. "Now say the words and we can end this."

          Belle's eyes darkened with fury, her teeth clenched, and a small satisfied smile curved her lips. "I-I, Belle Beaumont, princess and heir to the throne of Avonlea, do hereby give up claim over the Dark One and relinquish his dagger to …"

          "Say it, girl!"

          Belle smiled with all her teeth, her eyes alight with triumph as she brought her knee up and caught the cleric right between his legs, watching him crumple in a howl of pain. "Rumpelstiltskin. I relinquish claim and give the power back to its rightful owner, Rumpelstiltskin." The dagger, clutched so tightly in her hand, disappeared into the ether, returning to its true master as she slumped weakly against her chains.

          Maurice bellowed with rage and backhanded her, making her swing drunkenly from her bonds. "You foolish girl! You have no idea what you've done."

          Belle wrapped her free arm over her head to protect her face as she laughed. "Oh, yes I do, Papa. I freed him. He's free and you'd better start praying."

          Hugh kicked the door in, shattering the lock, his sword in hand, his helmet unable to hide the unadulterated rage on his swarthy battle-worn features. Maurice stepped behind Belle, wrapping his hand around her swath of unbound hair and jerking her head back viciously, holding a dagger to her throat. He quaked in terror as Rumpelstiltskin appeared between the brothers, the kris dagger at his side, his eyes completely black. It was a sure sign the beast was loosed from his prison and in complete control. There would be no mercy, no way to stay his hand.

          "Take your hands from my woman, and I won't kill you. I'll leave the new king to dole out your punishment," the sorcerer said with quiet menace, magic crackling black and viscous at his fingertips. He radiated power and it shook Maurice to the core.

          "I'm dead either way, it seems. I think I'll take Belle with me." The blade at her throat drew a thin line of blood. With a wave of the Dark One's hand, the dagger crumbled to dust in the deposed king's hand, leaving him with nothing. His smile was pure evil as he left Hugh to deal with Maurice and squatted down at the cleric's side.

          "What to do, what to do?" he trilled, tsking lightly. There had already been so much carnage for his Belle to witness this evening. He gazed up at her, their eyes meeting for the first time. "What would you have me do, little dearie?"

          Belle swallowed back her fear, recognizing that she was dealing with the Dark One instead of her beloved. "Whatever you will, Rumpel."

          Hugh cleared his throat as he bound his brother's hands. "You could leave him to me, Dark One."

          "Oh no," he drawled, circling the fallen man and tapping his chin in thought. "He hurt my Belle. He is _mine_." But first he would see to his love. He bound the man in leather straps from head to toe and left him on the blood-soaked floor as he wrapped his arms gently around Belle and caught her, freeing her from the remaining manacle. He conjured a small cot and laid her gently on her stomach. "Be still, pet. Let me help you," he murmured soothingly, tenderly placing a kiss to her bloodied lips and healing the bite mark she'd inflicted on herself as she'd tried to hold back her screams. He called his magic to heal her, brushing his hands lightly over her wounds and making her whole again. He removed his cloak and laid it over her, hoping it would warm her. "All better now, dear one. Rest for a moment. This won't take long."

          Adrian would have shrunk back in terror if he hadn't been bound as he was, as Rumpelstiltskin came to loom over him. His pleas fell on deaf ears as the sorcerer stuck him on the wall with his magic. "Oh, no, dearie. No mercy for you. You've been able to spread your evil for far too long." Belle hid her face in her arms as the sound of bones cracking and breaking filled the room. It was so loud, it could be heard over the cleric's agonized screams. When he couldn't take anymore, giving over to oblivion, Rumpelstiltskin would revive him and begin again. "That was for my Belle's mother," he giggled childishly, taunting his prisoner. "It's not so much fun to be on the receiving end of the torture, is it?"

          It didn't take long for the Dark One to grow bored with his game, however. He was more worried about getting his beloved back to the safety of her castle. "See, worm, this is how it's going to go," he said, reveling in the man's suffering as he hung on the wall suffering the tortures of the damned. "I am going to let you live. You're going to remain here on the wall like a moldy tapestry and we're going to see how long you last. I'm going to seal this room where no one and nothing can penetrate it. The only thing to keep you company will be your screams. That will be your punishment for daring to harm the woman I love, the woman who is better than you will ever be, the lady of the Dark Castle and my future wife."

          Rumpelstiltskin crossed the room and lifted Belle into his arms, her eyes squeezed shut, her lithe frame shivering with the shock of her ordeal. "It's alright, my dear heart," he cooed into her hair, his lips at her temple. As he stepped out of the room, the door behind him vanished, leaving cool stone in its place, Adrian's tomb.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Love you all so much xoxox


	16. CONFESSIONS

          Hugh Beaumont shoved his brother, the now deposed king of Avonlea, ahead of him into the throne room. Maurice sprawled across the parquet floor at the base of the dais, his chin scraping against the carpeted runner and leaving a burn. Rumpelstiltskin giggled merrily from his seat upon the gilded throne, Belle safely bundled in his cloak sitting on his lap, her face pressed into his neck. She didn't want to watch, but when he'd tried to leave her with Clara in their bedchamber, she'd refused to let go of him.

          "Well, well, how the mighty have fallen," he quipped. But his humor was forced, trying to hide his raw rage over the evening's events. Belle could have died if he'd remained trapped below in the fetid dungeon. Even though she was safely by his side, he couldn't shake the fear which had burrowed deep under his skin. Fear of losing her.

          Maurice clambered weakly to his feet, a snarl upon his lips as he took in the scene before him. The council of elders, his advisors, formed a semi-circle behind the throne where the imp sat, staring down in disapproval at their monarch. "I've done nothing wrong," Maurice protested, standing tall and raising his chin proudly, staring straight ahead at the nobles and doing his best to ignore his former slave. "This council has no say in the treatment of my family. I was well within my rights for the actions I took against the princess."

          Lord Lucian stepped forward with a heavy leather-bound ledger and pointed an accusing finger at Maurice. "The princess's torture at the hands of the order - which will be disbanded at the first opportunity, mind you —notwithstanding, your crimes against the kingdom are well documented. And by your own hand, no less." He flipped open to a page and ran his finger over the king's bold scrawl. "Here is says you are selling grain to our citizens at nearly double what you paid to purchase it. Our people are suffering, barely able to make ends meet while you languish in wealth. Since you are not putting the extra money into the coffers, it is only you who are benefitting. And I won't even go into the nefarious dealings you've been engaging in with King George. The evidence in this ledger alone condemns you."

          Maurice struggled against his bonds, his ruddy face a mask of fury. If he had been free, he would have been pointing a finger at Belle. "This is all your doing, Belle, you and that bloody slave of yours! You've bent and twisted everything against me in favor of your own design. You've positioned Hugh to take the —"

          Rumpelstiltskin silenced him with a thought, never relinquishing his hold on Belle. "Sir Hugh," he began with forced calm. "What say you? Will you step up and claim your right to the sovereignty? Will you put things to right and return Avonlea to its former glory?"

          "I will," Hugh said with absolute sincerity. He addressed the council. "I put forth my claim before you for your approval." He pushed Maurice forward to face them. "Only then can we deal with my brother."

          Rumpelstiltskin remained silent on the throne, running his blackened nails through Belle's chestnut locks. He didn't have to assert his influence to have the entire council to vote in favor of Hugh Beaumont. Belle sat up and pressed her brow to his briefly before she rose from his lap to approach her uncle. Her gait was shaky, her eyes dull with weariness as she stopped before him and wrapped her arms about his neck.

          "Thank you," she whispered, dropping back to her heels and feeling the comforting arm of her sorcerer coil around her waist. "You will make a fine king, Uncle. There will be no need for me to return to Avonlea except to visit."

          Hugh brushed an errant lock of her hair behind her ear and smiled sadly. "I never wanted this, Belle. And I never wanted you to be hurt by it. I don't want you to go. Stay and help me, my dear. Considering the coup you pulled off here today, I could use such a formidable strategist on my council."

          She took his big hands in hers and tried to muster a smile for him. "I don't belong here any longer. I'm sorry, but I can't stay. Rumpelstiltskin wants me to go with him … and that is also my fondest wish. But I couldn't go until the fate of our kingdom was secure. Now that it is, I don't wish to delay," she explained, hoping he would understand. She kissed his cheek and began walking toward the door, Rumpelstiltskin moving to follow her.

          Hugh stopped the imp with a hand to his shoulder, removing a letter from his tunic. "I've had this in my possession for far too long. It's time it was given to Belle."

          "What is it?" he asked, taking the aged parchment from the knight.

          "It is a letter for Belle from her mother, explaining her parentage. I only ask that you wait to give it to her until she's settled. Don't hurt her, Rumpelstiltskin." Hugh watched him go, his daughter's chosen mate, and he shivered with revulsion. He wondered how he and his beloved Jeanette had produced a child who could love someone such as the Dark One.

 

*.*.*

 

          Belle sat ramrod straight on the edge of her bed as she watched Clara pack her things. The things, like her books which were too burdensome to bother with packing, Rumpelstiltskin sent straightaway to the Dark Castle. Her life had changed so drastically over the last few weeks and now she was finally leaving her prison. For it truly had been a prison. She'd always been told what to wear, what to eat, what to do, how to sit, how to stand, how to speak to members of the court, how to address those of her station, for years upon years.

          Now the only person she had to answer to was her sorcerer. And she was scared to death. She loved him, but he was different now. He was free of the yolk of slavery, his own master. Without command of the dagger, how could she truly know he wouldn't hurt her now? An inner voice whispered in her ear,  _Because he loves you. Because he wants you to be his wife._  She'd heard his words to Adrian and because he was Rumpelstiltskin, she knew he hadn't lied.

          He continued to glance worriedly in her direction every so often as he and Clara bustled about their chamber. She thought it looked so empty without his spinning wheel in the corner. Her clothes, her jewels, her furniture, aside from the bed, her books and shelves, her favorite tea service, everything was gone as though she hadn't lived in this room for the last eighteen years.

          It was funny that the fondest memories she had were recent ones. The memories of sharing her space with her Rumpel. Her eyelids were so heavy from not sleeping in so long. But she couldn't convince them to close as she sat there watching the sun rise for the last time over Avonlea. And thinking of Avonlea only brought the pain of her father's betrayal to the fore, a lump forming in her throat, choking her, but her eyes were dry. Why couldn't she feel? Why couldn't she cry? She was numb.

          It took her a moment to clear her head, Rumpelstiltskin standing before her with his hand outstretched to take hers. "Come, pet," he murmured with a hesitant smile. When did he become so unsure? Did he fear she wouldn't go with him? "Belle?" he asked as he knelt before her, taking her cold hands in his, his thumbs brushing her knuckles gently. "We're ready, love. In a moment we'll be at the Dark Castle. I'll prepare a bath for you and dress you in a gown and put you to bed so you can rest. Really rest, Belle, free of worry and fear."

          She trailed her fingertips along his jaw and ran the pad of her thumb over his lips. He leaned into her caress and closed his eyes, feeling the tension leave his body. "Why?" she asked, and he frowned in confusion. "Why do you want me to go with you? I can't feel you anymore, Rumpel. When I relinquished the dagger, we lost our connection and I can't feel you any longer. I can't tell if you're angry or happy or …"

          "Shh, pet. Look at me," he encouraged, cupping her face in his hands to force her gaze to his. "When you are rested, we are going to have a long discussion about what we are to each other. But for now, just know that you are mine. Not my slave or my servant, not my pet or my plaything. But you  _do_  belong to me. Soon, all will become clear to you. Then it will be your choice whether you leave … or whether you stay with me." He looked more vulnerable than she'd ever seen him before and her heart lurched. As if she would ever willingly be parted from him again. She'd fought too hard to be with him, and even without the dagger, he still belonged to her.

          Tentatively, she brushed the hair away from his eyes and looped her arms around his neck, smiling as his arms slipped around her waist. "Take me home, Rumpel," she whispered against his lips. He rose from his knees before her and swung her into his arms bridal-style. Clara took his sleeve as he instructed, and they disappeared in a violet mist, leaving Avonlea behind.

 

*.*.*

 

          Belle didn't have a chance to catch more than a glimpse of the Great Hall as they appeared in the Dark Castle. Rumpelstiltskin didn't let go of her as he nodded to his left at a door and explained to Clara she would find the kitchen down a corridor behind it before the great double doors opened and he began walking toward the stairs which would lead them upstairs to their bedchambers. He had taken the liberty of transporting Clara's furniture and belongings as well, promising she could remain with them however long she liked. Belle was happy her friend and servant would be there with them to offer her help and guidance to Belle as needed. Belle was no help in the kitchen, so at least with Clara there to teach her, they wouldn't starve.

          He showed Clara to a guest room done in soft pinks and golds, more opulent than any room she'd ever slept in back home. "Milord, I can't stay here," she protested.

          Rumpelstiltskin snorted. "You can, and you will. Belle will feel more comfortable if you are close to her. We'll be just three doors down on the right." What he meant was …  _You will be treated as a companion to the lady of the castle, not as a servant._ Her easy acceptance of him when he'd been Belle's slave had won him over rather quickly and he wanted to repay her in kind. If he was going to be worthy of his lady and try to be a better man, Clara was as good a place to start as any. "Rest, Miss Clara. I will tend to our lady."

          He carried Belle down the hall and strode through the open door to their chamber which he'd had a bit of magic clean quickly while Clara was being shown to her room. Belle gaped at the opulent chamber, certainly larger than her own rooms at home. Her wardrobe and vanity along with her chest of drawers and one of her bookshelves were scattered about the room. They looked like they belonged there and that they had always resided in this chamber. But it was the massive four poster bed, draped in sapphire blue and gold silks that drew her eye. It looked so soft and inviting with its beautiful duvet and a mountain of pillows to lose herself in.

          Rumpelstiltskin was pleased with her obvious pleasure. He’d banished the crimson and black hangings which had matched the bedding, replacing it with those she’d had in her room in Avonlea.

          He gave her a crooked grin as he followed her gaze. "Is it to your liking, pet?" he asked, nuzzling his nose against her temple.

          "Yes. It looks like I've always lived here with you," she breathed in amazement. "I think I will be very happy here with you, Rumpel," she said, cupping his cheek with her hand. He leaned into her palm and closed his eyes briefly before collecting himself and proceeding into the adjoining washroom.

          The bathing chamber hosted a deep sunken marble tub, completely round in design. Belle's mouth formed a little 'o' of surprise upon seeing it. A curved bench was built into its side and went all the way around and a small shelf sat off to one side of the tub, jar upon jar of different soaps there for the master's pleasure … and now for the mistress as well. With a flourish of his hand the tub filled with hot steaming water. He set her on her feet and removed his cloak from her shoulders.

          His hands moved to the straps of her ruined shift, but he stopped. "May I?" he asked, wanting her permission. He didn't want her to feel at a disadvantage just because he was now quite able to touch her without the dagger standing between them. He tugged the ruined shift, stained with the blood of her betrothed and ripped down the back, from her body and tossed it into a pile to be burned. His own clothes joined hers on the floor before he lifted her once more and stepped into the tub. "Alright, pet? The water will warm you soon enough," he assured her, trying to rinse the blood from them both before he exchanged the rust-colored water in favor of fresh clean water filled with fragrant bubbles.

          She was very subdued, nowhere near her usual vibrant self and it caused lines of worry to appear at his mouth and brow and around his eyes. Something had broken within her and he was at a loss as to how to fix it. Perhaps after she finally slept, she would feel better. He set to scrubbing her hair and felt her body drain of tension, a good sign.

          "I am rather surprised you willingly got into a bathtub without being ordered here," she chuckled softly, her voice echoing against the stone walls.

          He kissed her bare shoulder as he rinsed the last of the soap from her hair. "Well, I couldn't very well climb into bed with you smelling of ogres and covered in blood, now could I?" he asked with a teasing grin.

          "No, indeed not," she agreed with him. She bit her lip, unsure of how to voice her request. "Um … if you kneel down, I'll wash your hair for you, Rumpelstiltskin," she said hesitantly. He'd always given her such brutish behavior before when she'd requested he bathe. No doubt just another act of defiance on his part.

          Without a thought, he dropped to his knees and ducked his head under the water. She was ready with a soft soap smelling of sandalwood when he emerged. He pressed his cheek against her belly as she scrubbed, nearly purring with pleasure as her nails scraped against his scalp. She took her time, trying to prolong the experience, she herself enjoying the sensations of his soft hair gliding over her fingers. He promised himself he would never wash his hair again unless she was there to help. When she'd rinsed the last of the soap from his hair and they'd bathed thoroughly, he helped her out of the tub and wrapped her in a large fluffy towel to dry off.

          All too soon, they were dry and dressed in their usual nightclothes and he was tucking her into bed. She stretched out on her stomach, her head on his outstretched arm, his leg thrown over both of hers and buried under her own duvet, the silk a balm against her skin. She was asleep before he had a chance to tuck her against his chest, his breath warm against her nape.

 

*.*.*

 

          A brisk, late autumn breeze wafted through the chamber and teased the glowing embers of the dying fire in the hearth, causing the Dark One to shiver in his sleep. It was barely dawn, which meant he had slept for more than twelve hours, more than enough time for his body to recover from his recent battles both emotionally and physically. His hand reached absently for the warm blankets bunched around his hips, seeking to cover his bare chest and ward off the chill. The Dark Castle was high in the mountains overlooking the tiny village of Truesdale and late autumn felt like mid-winter this early in the morning. It took a long moment for him to stretch and realize, as his mind snapped to wakefulness, the warm bundle of his love who he'd grown so accustomed to sleeping next to was missing from his side.

          Rumpelstiltskin reached across the wide expanse of their bed and only encountered cool silk sheets, empty of her warmth. He shot straight up in bed, all remnants of sleep vanishing in a blink. "Belle?" he asked, remaining calm. He had to remember they were in his home where she was safe and well protected, the wards on the castle shielding them from anyone who would wish to do them harm. He shivered against the cold blowing in from the open terrace door, a door which hadn't been opened in decades. Even before his enslavement, he had rarely ever gone out there to enjoy the view of the mountains.

          "Flaming fairies!" he cursed as he stepped off the rug onto the frigid stone floor and made his way quickly to the door to yank them shut. It was then he saw her, standing facing the snow-capped mountains, the wind whipping her hair wildly about her shoulders, clad only in her thin silk nightgown. He had her up in his arms with all haste, striding quickly back into the room, the doors closing and locking securely behind him with a thought. The fire in the hearth sprang to life as he set her down on the rug before it, the softness of the bear pelt tickling her feet.

          "What were you doing out there in the cold, pet?" he asked softly, taking her feet onto his lap and rubbing at her icy skin, reddened by the cold. "You can't do things like that up here in the mountains. The cold is severe, and I don't want you to fall ill," he scolded gently. "Why didn't you wake me, love?"

          Belle stared absently at the flames licking away at the thick pine logs set in the grate, a small sad smile on her lips. "You needed to rest, Rumpel. I haven't been up long. Nightmares; new ones now," she whispered bitterly. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, scooting closer to the fire.

          He rose from the rug and retrieved the duvet from the bed. He settled her onto his lap as he sat down and wrapped them tightly in the warm blanket, pulling her back against his chest so she could rest her head against his shoulder. She was stiff and cold in his arms, so unlike her as she was usually so soft and pliant in his embrace, her curves molding against him in surrender. "Talk to me, dear one," he encouraged, nuzzling his nose against her neck and breathing her in. "Let me help you now."

          "I killed a man, Rumpel, and I can't get it out of my head. I can still feel the blade sliding into his flesh," she rasped, her voice so low he could barely hear, her hands trembling as she twined her fingers with his under the blanket.

          "It's my fault. I should have been there," he spat, his gut twisting with guilt. "You were defending yourself, pet. You did nothing wrong. You were strong and brave and did what you had to do to save yourself."

          He disentangled their hands, so he could cradle her face. "I don't know of another who would have kept her wits about her long enough to fight as you did."

          Tears fell unchecked from her eyes and onto his hands. "I couldn't let him … let him …" Her eyes clenched tightly, and she leaned forward, pressing her face to his neck, her body wracked with great heaving sobs. "I'm s-sorry I didn't l-listen to you. I-I never sh-should have s-sent you a-away."

          "Oh, my sweet Belle. You were doing what you thought was best and I don't want you to blame yourself. None of this is your fault," he crooned, his voice breaking along with his heart at the last, his tears falling to join hers and gleaming in the light of the fire where they caught in her hair. "I should have had the pleasure of killing that pig!" His fingers threaded through her hair, combing from her nape to her lower back, soothing her.

          "He tried … he said …" she cried, her nails digging into his shoulders painfully as she fought to tell him what had happened.

          "Belle," he began, swallowing around the knot in his throat. "Belle, did he … um …"

          "No. No, Rumpel," she shook her head in denial.

          "He can't hurt you anymore, pet.  _No_   _one_  is going to hurt you again as long as I draw breath. Do you hear me?  _No_   _one_ ," he assured her as he pressed his lips to her temple. And that especially meant the fallen king who had posed as her father for her entire life. He was anxious to learn what Hugh Beaumont was going to do with his brother, but he would wait a few days to check in on that matter. He wouldn't let Belle visit Avonlea until the matter was decided.

          "I know you will protect me. You've had plenty of practice, haven't you, love?" she asked, smiling up at him. She wiped away her tears on the corner of the blanket and settled back against his chest once more. "Are you still angry with me? For forcing you to be my slave?"

          "No, dear one, I'm not angry. You never treated me like a slave, or anything other than a man. You looked beyond what I project to the world, beyond the evil imp and saw the man I was so long ago, the man I want to be again … for you and for my son," he said softly, dropping a kiss to her crown. He would finally be able to resume his search for his son, but now with Belle at his side. Together, he had no doubt they would succeed.

          She lifted her gaze to search his warm amber eyes. "I heard what you said to Adrian before you entombed him, Rumpel. Did you mean it?"

          His heart swelled, and his breath hitched as he realized confession time was upon him. He couldn't deny the truth of his words to the cleric the night before. She didn't see him as a coward, but as someone brave and he wouldn't lie to her now. "Did I mean it when I called you the woman I love?" he asked, kissing the corner of her mouth. "Yes, I love you. My heart is filled to bursting with my love for you. Did I mean it when I said you were the Lady of the Dark Castle?" he asked, kissing the other side of her mouth. "Yes, I meant it. You are my lady. And did I mean it when I called you my soon to be wife?" he asked, claiming her in a deep penetrating kiss which left her breathless and clinging to him. "With all my heart, if you will have me."

          "Tell me," she pleaded prettily, delving her hands into his hair and scraping her nails lightly against his nape. She pulled back slightly as he leaned in to kiss her. "Tell me. If I am to be your wife, I plan on hearing it quite frequently," she teased.

          "I love you, Belle."

          "As I love you, Rumpelstiltskin," she whispered against his lips as she closed the distance between them, molding herself to him. "And yes, love, I will have you for my husband … forever."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ah, the fluffiness. Had to leave ya'll with the fluffiness! Hope you all enjoyed this chapter and I so look forward to your reviews and thoughts. Thank you so much for all the support you've given me throughout the writing process. Love you all so very much xoxoxo.


	17. JUSTICE

          "Well, I was wondering when you two would come down and join the land of the living," Clara greeted them as she set the tea service at the end of the dining table and began preparing three cups of the brew. "I have breakfast ready if you are ready to eat, milady."

          "Miss Clara, you are not here in a domestic capacity. Just tell the castle what you want," Rumpelstiltskin said, taking the cup from her. He sat down in his favorite chair at the head of the long table and sighed with pleasure.

          Clara gaped at him as she passed a cup to Belle who merely smiled at her friend. "Anything?" she asked suspiciously.

          Rumpelstiltskin waved his hand with a grand flourish and transferred their breakfast from the kitchen to the table along with two extra chairs for his ladies. Clara was still contemplating what she could possibly wish for as they sat down to dine. Belle grinned. "How about a glass of juice please," she hedged, giggling merrily when a glass of cranberry juice appeared next to her plate. The Dark One wrinkled his nose.

          "Cranberry? You didn't specify, pet. Do you even like cranberry juice?" he asked dubiously. He found it a bit too tart for his tastes and didn't understand her liking for the drink.

          A sad little frown marred Belle's brow as she thought of how lonely he must have been before his captivity. With magic taking care of his every need, he had no need for servants and most people were too afraid of him to offer friendship. How many years must he have been alone there in the grand castle? He seemed happier than she'd ever seen him as he polished off his breakfast and pushed his plate aside. And much more relaxed now that they were safely ensconced in his home.

          "What's wrong, pet? You seem distressed," he worried, raising her left hand and placing a kiss to her ring finger where her betrothal ring sparkled in the light streaming in through the windows. It was a simple ring, a square sapphire flanked by two topaz stones to match the set he'd given her for her birthday. She had been delighted by the ring, saying the topaz stones reminded her of his eyes when he was happy.

          "Oh, milady!" Clara exclaimed, catching sight of the ring on Belle's finger. "Don't tell me the scoundrel finally admitted his feelings and proposed," she gushed, winking at Rumpelstiltskin.

          "He did," Belle nodded with a blush. "And I couldn't be happier."

          It took him most of the day to show his ladies about the Dark Castle. The spell he'd cast that morning had every corner of their home shining with cleanliness and had Clara grouching because she wasn't going to have a thing to do to make herself feel useful. She didn't want to listen to his protests that she was there as a companion to her lady. He was certain she and Belle could put their heads together and come up with something to keep them busy.

 

*.*.*

 

          Rumpelstiltskin waited until they had retired for the evening before he brought out the letter from her mother. He set her before him on the bed and began pulling the brush through her long tresses, hoping the act of brushing her hair would lull her into relaxation. He wished he could put it off for several more days, but he couldn't bring himself to withhold it from her any longer.

          "I have something for you, pet," he said, retrieving it from the bedside table where he'd set it earlier. "Your … um … Hugh wanted you to have this."

          "What is it?" she asked, hiding a yawn behind her hand as she took the aged parchment from his hand. "It looks rather old, Rumpel. Are you sure it was meant for me?"

          "Fairly certain," he said gently, continuing with his task and trying to prepare himself for an emotional breakdown which was sure to follow.

          She carefully broke the wax seal, her brow crinkling as she noticed her mother's stamp, a rose. She refused to believe what her mind was screaming at her, that it could possibly be from her beloved mother.

 

_My darling daughter —_

 

_I am writing this to you on your tenth birthday, my Belle. There isn't much time left and I don't know if I will be able to succeed in my plans. Just by chance my plan fails, and I am tried for treason, I couldn't go to my death without telling you the truth._

 

          Belle stared at her mother's looping penmanship staring back at her from the parchment with a puzzled frown. She had known. She had known she wouldn't be able to save those women and yet she still went ahead with it.

 

_You are growing to be such a lovely girl and I am so very proud of you, my daughter. I know you will eventually grow into a strong and brave woman, a woman who will rule our kingdom with a kind and gentle hand. I wish I could be there to see it. But I'm afraid all I will be able to do is leave you with a bit of advice. Please don't let Maurice force you into a marriage with someone you don't love. I let my father arrange my marriage, and there hasn't been a day I haven't regretted it._

 

          Rumpelstiltskin laid the brush aside and wrapped his arms about her waist as she gasped, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. He rested his chin atop her shoulder and read along with her.

 

_Don't settle for anything less than love, my Belle. True love is the most wonderful thing of all and to deny it is tantamount to death. If you can't be with your love, it is like a little piece of you dies each day. But to be with him makes you strong and gives you hope. I pray one day you will find what I have with Hugh. Hugh is my love, Belle. He is your father. That is why Maurice keeps him so far away from Avonlea._

_It is a seed of hatred which was planted in him that makes Maurice as he is. He thinks Hugh stole away his love, but I never loved Maurice. I couldn't go to my death without you knowing the truth, Belle. It has been a dagger to your father's heart from the day you were born, knowing you and loving you as an uncle instead of being able to shout to the kingdom that you belonged to him. It is my prayer that one day you will know him as such, that you will love him as a daughter should love her father._

 

_Please don't be angry with him for keeping this secret. I made him promise not to tell you until you were ready. Just know you were the best thing to ever came of our love, my daughter. We couldn't be together, but at least we had you. I love you so very much, Belle, and I hope you can forgive us._

 

_If there is ever a need for you to escape from Maurice, I have left you a gift. There is a hidden drawer beneath my jewelry box. It is a puzzle I am certain you will be able to solve, my love. It will help you to be free. I would have used it myself, but I could not bring myself to be selfish and leave you behind._

 

_My deepest love always —_

_Mama_

 

          "He never said anything." She wrapped her arms over the tops of his, her fingernails digging gently into his flesh. "How could they have kept this from me, Rumpel?" she asked, staggered by the contents of the letter.

          "They did what they thought was best for you."

          "Maurice Beaumont is not my father. No wonder it was so easy for him to turn me over to the order, why it was so easy for him to do the same to my mother. He knew." She turned in his embrace and he could see the tears welling in her eyes.

          He brushed a stray curl behind her ear and trailed his fingers down the line of her jaw, his gaze filled with love and concern. "Tell me how I can fix this, dearest. Tell me what you desire."

          How could she ask him to take her back to Avonlea when her kingdom had caused him nothing but pain and misery? Yet, she knew he would do it … for her. "I need to see my father, my true father and ask him why. I need to see his face when he tells me the truth," she forced out, her voice raw with emotion and tears.

          He nodded against her hair in agreement. He was anxious to have this dealt with, so they could put it behind them and move into their future without anything in their path to lay claim to their happiness. "First thing tomorrow, we'll return to Avonlea."

 

*.*.*

 

          Belle woke to a crushing weight on her chest. She opened her eyes to find Rumpelstiltskin's head lying on her breastbone, his face pressed into the valley between her breasts. She smiled contentedly and stretched beneath him, trying to work the kinks from her limbs without waking him. It was with absolute certainty, she knew she would never tire of waking up in his arms, although his unusual sleep positions would take some getting used to.

          He slept most nights curled around her, but other nights he would pin her beneath him as though he were afraid she would flee while he was lost in slumber. And now he loved her, she thought, nearly giddy in her happiness. Who could have thought the enraged imp, so full of hate, who had first come to her rescue, could have changed so much? He'd changed for her and she for him. They had saved each other.

          "If you don't stop wiggling around, pet, we're going to be delaying our trip this morning," he murmured, the deep, sleepy timbre of his voice vibrating against her chest and sending a delightful rush of heat spreading through her limbs.

          She scratched her nails down his back and wiggled her hips against him, drawing a deep moan from his throat. He tightened his arms around her and began kissing his way up to nip lightly at her pulse.

          "Rumpelstiltskin, you are such a tease. You use me as your own personal chew toy, so I should be able to tease you as well."

          "And my betrothed is a cheeky wench," he moaned against her lips, drawing her bottom lip between his and nibbling gently. "But oh, so sweet." He raised his warm amber eyes to meet hers, all hint of playfulness gone. "Belle, if I could arrange it, would you marry me today? We could have your father witness it and get married right there in Avonlea."

          "Really? You want to get married _today?"_ she asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

          He gave her a rather wolfish grin. "Well, pet, I've already told you what a selfish bastard I am. I'm not going to let you go. You're mine. And I don't want to wait. I want to do right by you and make you my wife as soon as possible … before you come to your senses and change your mind."

          He swallowed the keening moan the erupted from her throat as his hand slipped beneath her gown to trail along her thigh, his nails drawing circles around a particularly sensitive patch of skin on her hip. She writhed beneath him, trying to press herself closer. "Why would I … want to change … my mind," she asked breathlessly. "I have everything I could … ever want here … with you."

          His control was slipping at an alarming rate as her hands roamed freely across his back, his chest, the flat plane of his stomach. "Stop, pet," he growled huskily against the curve of her neck. "I'm not looking forward to another dip in the snow."

          She pulled at the ties on his soft cotton breeches and then yelped as his hand grasped her wrist and gently forced it back up to lay against his chest. Her lips turned down in a pout. "What are you talking about?" she asked as he rolled to his back, his breathing labored. She leaned up on an elbow, regretting the loss of his warmth.

          He scoffed ruefully. "Oh, my Belle, don't you know how much I want you? How much I just want to bury myself in your delectable body and lose myself in you?" he asked, his warm amber gaze intense as he focused on her. He smiled softly as the heat rose to settle in the apples of her cheeks. His hand moved to her face and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "I love you so much, pet. I desire nothing more than to show you just how much, and it is becoming increasingly difficult to restrain myself."

          "And the snow?" she asked, her eyes alight with mischief. She didn't like the thought of him suffering, but the mental image it conjured was quite amusing.

          "It helps somewhat, dearie. How do you think I was able to cope with your 'punishment'?" he asked with a wicked smirk. "I think we both suffered that night. I was so angry with you for putting yourself in danger. I wanted to beat some sense into you, but the thought of hurting you, the thought of having you fear me, made my stomach churn."

          She closed the distance he'd put between them and rested her head on his shoulder. "I knew you wouldn't hurt me, Rum. Even when I was terrified to give you control that night, I trusted you wouldn't. I trusted you cared enough not to do something we'd both later regret." She grinned sheepishly up at him. "Although punishment by sexual frustration was, I must admit, one of the more interesting punishments I've suffered over the years."

          "What?" he asked, gaping at her in surprise.

          "Think about it, love. I willfully disobeyed you. Your only task was to see to my safety and I disregarded all your safeguards, so I could help my friend. I gave you free rein to do your will and you didn't hurt me. You taught me a valuable lesson not to do it again, because I never want to desire you that badly again and not have you finish what you start. Ever. I was literally on fire for you," she admitted, ducking her head in embarrassment. "But you didn't beat me, or cane me, or lock me away for days at a time with no food or water."

          He grasped her upper arms and pulled her up until their noses were a scant few inches apart. "Who has done such to you?!" he hissed furiously. His anger churned in his stomach like live eels, squirming and writhing to be loosed.

          Belle placed her fingers to his lips to silence his forthcoming outburst. "Shh. It's in the past."

          "That doesn't make it right."

          She kissed him, her lips molding to his and she felt his grip on her arms loosen as his hands moved up to delve into her hair, holding her in place. It was a gentle kiss, one to soothe away a bad memory of actions which never should have been taken on her. "No one ever suffered as much as you did as they punished me, Rumpelstiltskin. You proved to me just how much you cared for me that night."

          He closed his eyes as he let the memory flit through his mind, his fingers slipping through her tresses, the texture like silk. "I had planned to leave you unsated, to leave you with my touch so that each time you moved throughout the following day you would remember how it felt. I wanted to leave you marked and burning."

          "And why didn't you?"

          "Because it would have prolonged  _our_  suffering," he said, kissing the tip of her nose as she frowned in puzzlement. "How long do you think you would have lasted before thinking to use the dagger to order me to your bed? Even without the dagger's thrall I would have obeyed, wanting you as badly as I did. Then you would have been ruined and wallowing in regret. That regret would have turned into hate and I found I didn't want you to hate me, dearest. It was an ill-conceived plan which completely backfired on me," he shrugged with a wry twist of his lips.

          "So, you spent a good portion of the evening cooling your ardor in the snow?" she asked, smiling at the mental image. "You could have just as easily taken me that night."

          His smile was positively devilish. "Oh, no, pet. When I claim you for the first time, you will not associate it with punishment. You will be my wife, my equal. Mistress and slave will not enter into the equation. I want you to look back on it as something special and precious, a memory you will cherish."

          A shiver of anticipation skipped along her spine as he crushed her to him and claimed her mouth, his kiss leaving her clinging to him. It made her suddenly wish they didn't have to go to Avonlea. But it had been agreed there would be no more obstacles in their path and confronting Hugh Beaumont was just one more thing which needed to be resolved.

          So, it was with a bit of regret she left the bed, urged by her betrothed to dress and be ready to leave within the hour. Her heart leapt in her chest, excitement coursing through her. They were getting married today. She was marrying for love instead of alliance. She was marrying the most powerful being in the realm because he loved her as much as she did him. He wanted her as his equal instead of as a decoration for his arm, something she'd never thought to have. They would have a life of true love and happiness. Really, what more did they need?

 

*.*.*

 

          The three of them appeared in the kitchens, causing chaos in their wake. Mrs. Potts clubbed one particularly hysterical kitchen maid with a wooden spoon and scolded her, sending her off to the garden to pick carrots for the lamb stew she was preparing. "Goodness," she exclaimed as she wrapped Belle in a warm hug. "I never thought to see you again, my dear. The castle is abuzz with news of the king's actions. He's been deposed and that rascal brother of his has been crowned in his stead. No one could tell me what had happened to you, highness, and everyone is speculating that the Dark One somehow escaped and abducted you in the process."

          Rumpelstiltskin rolled his eyes as he sat down on a stool at the large work table and snatched a peach tart from the platter near his elbow. He tugged Belle over to his side and pulled her onto his lap, offering her a bite. "Have I told you today how much I absolutely  _adore_  your little kingdom," he snarked, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

          She swatted him playfully, a smile teasing at her lips. "Be nice, Rum." She turned her attention back to the cook. "My betrothed did not have to abduct me, Beatrix. I was more than willing to go away with him."

          "Betrothed, eh?" she asked, eyeing the imp scarfing down the warm pastries. "You just make sure to make our lady happy," she warned, brandishing the spoon at him.

          His lips twitched with amusement as he met her bold glare. "Yes, ma'am. Making her happy is my fondest desire, I assure you." Mrs. Potts raised a brow at him, not sure if she believed him or not, but not quite courageous enough to argue the point with him. However, it was easy to see the love in his eyes for the woman wrapped so securely upon his lap.

          Clara linked her arm with the cook and steered her over to a table to sit a spell for a chat. A servant prepared a tea tray for them and brought it over as Clara began regaling her friend with the events which had led up to Hugh Beaumont's coup and, of course, her own new circumstances in residing with her lady and the Dark One.

          "They'll be at it for hours," Belle said with a laugh.

          Rumpelstiltskin grunted around a mouthful of pastry. "Should we leave them to it and see to finding the newly crowned king?"

          Belle looped her arms around his neck and nodded, anxious to be done with the confrontation. In moments, she was still ensconced in his embrace, but they were now sitting pleasantly in the throne room on the gilded chair she used to perch upon next to the king's. Hugh Beaumont was in the middle of conducting new business with the needy villagers who had come to him with requests for aid and didn't know what to make of the disturbance caused by the imp's appearance.

          "Hope we're not interrupting, majesty," Rumpelstiltskin said, his shrill high-pitched giggle echoing throughout the room.

          Hugh's gaze swung to the imp in surprise, his mouth gaping as his eyes met the cerulean gaze of his daughter. He turned to the guards standing at attention and ordered the room cleared. He would resume business tomorrow. Now was time to be spent with his daughter. He rose slowly from the golden throne and opened his arms to her, praying she would come to him, that she wouldn't reject him.

          Rumpelstiltskin helped her to rise from his lap and tipped her chin up to look at him. "I will return soon, pet. I trust your father to keep you safe until my return," he said, dropping a soft kiss to her lips. He would have rathered walked over burning coals in his bare feet than leave her, but he knew she would appreciate having a moment of privacy with her newly found parent.

          "You will return soon?" she asked, reluctant to release her grip on his hand.

          He raised her hands to his lips and brushed a kiss to her knuckles. "I will, dear one. But I have arrangements to make for our wedding while you have a chat with Hugh. I won't be long."

          Belle's hand dropped to her side as he disappeared in a tell-tale wisp of purple smoke. She glanced shyly at Hugh and was unable to contain herself a moment longer, closing the distance between them, his arms going about her and holding her to his chest. She could feel his tears drop onto her hair, tears of love and joy to finally be able to acknowledge his child.

          "Oh, Belle. My sweet, darling daughter," he murmured against her crown, his heart swelling with the love he felt for his precious child, his child who had been so long denied him in an attempt to protect her. "Can you ever find it in your heart to forgive an old fool?"

          "I love you. Of course, I forgive you," she said, her hands fisted in his tunic which was now quite wet from her own tears. "But I want to know everything. All I know is that mama claimed you were her true love. I want you to tell me how you met, how you fell in love, and how everything got so messed up."

          He finally released her from his embrace and had her resume her seat next to his throne. "It's a … um … it's quite a long story."

          "I don't care. I want to hear it, all of it. Don't leave anything out," she said with a small smile, brushing her tears away with a handkerchief she pulled from the sleeve of her eggshell blue muslin day gown.

          He sighed wearily and gave her a look which stated clearly that he'd rather not tell her, but proceeded despite it. "Jeanette Ammareaux was the most beautiful lady in Whitehall. Her father owned a small duchy there and sought an alliance with Maurice. He hadn't been king for more than a year at the time and was anxious to marry and have an heir. So, Maurice wrote to Lord Ammareaux and asked that he bring Jeanette to Avonlea, so they may meet and see if they might get on well with each other.

          "I had been training with the knights under my command the day she arrived. In those days, I stayed close to my brother. We were very close, and I was in charge of his safety. I never cared much for court life. I waited with Maurice in the courtyard as her carriage arrived. It was I who took her hand as she disembarked," he said with a fond smile, lost in his tale. "When she lifted those big blue eyes and looked at me, I was lost. It felt as though someone had kicked me in my chest. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't speak … I definitely couldn't think. With one look, she stole my soul and tucked it away to use as she wished."

          "And I'll bet she was equally taken with you," Belle breathed, a wistful smile on her lips. Her father was quite a handsome man with his warm hazel eyes, wide smile and dimples, his chestnut hair, so like hers cut short. She could see how her mother would have fallen for his handsome appearance.

          "Yes, she was quite taken with me, daughter. But she was meant for my brother. He became besotted with her beauty. But his duties kept him from her during her visit. She was here but a week, the week Milhorn decided they wanted to renegotiate trade routes and it took up most of Moe's time. He was only able to spend time with her at dinner. In the meantime, she was spending her days with me. I was her escort while she toured the kingdom and I cherished every moment spent in her company. Before she could go to her father and tell him she had no desire to marry the king, the betrothal contract had already been agreed to, drawn up and signed. She was officially his … all legal and aboveboard.

          "I was heartbroken, devastated by her loss. I threw myself into my work. I left on long assignments, border disputes mostly. But I couldn't remain here and watch my brother marry my true love. Of course, this made Moe unhappy. Believe it or not, we were quite close at one time. He missed me and begged me to return home for a while. They had been married a year at that time. In the time I had been away, I had tried to put her from my mind and my heart, but all it took was one glance to rekindle my feelings for her. Belle, I loved her so much," he said, his voice breaking beneath the weight of his emotions, tears falling unchecked into his short beard. Belle reached out to him and slipped her hand reassuringly into his, squeezing his fingers gently and urging him to continue.

          "We never meant to act on our feelings. We were both honor-bound by our duty to the kingdom, forced to deny our love. But it became too much for us to be apart. It just happened. It was just once before I began my next tour and she convinced me if something were to happen to me, she would forever regret never having been able to be with me," he told her, blushing to the roots of his hair at having to speak of such things with his child. "As much as I loved her, how was I to deny her wish? I just wanted one moment of happiness in a lifetime of pain, Belle."

          She was suddenly missing her imp, missing the way she felt when she was wrapped in his protective embrace. She could feel her father's pain. She'd felt it herself when Rumpelstiltskin had been so viciously ripped from her and sent away to the dungeons that night.

          He took a deep shuddering breath, trying to gather himself together before he continued. "When I was finally able to return, she was heavy with child. It came as a great shock when she confirmed it was mine. You see, she hadn't slept with Moe for many months. The winter had been harsh, and he'd fallen ill, keeping his distance so as not to infect her. There was no doubt you belonged to me. All I wanted was to take her away, to find somewhere we could build a life together. But she refused. She convinced me Moe would never rest until he found her and brought her back. She didn't want you to have to live in fear, always hunted by him. So, we stayed and it was the biggest mistake of our lives."

          It took a great effort to stop herself from sobbing outright. "How did he find out? How did he discover the truth I wasn't his daughter?"

          "Jeanette was able to hide it from him for a long time. It wasn't until you were about two years old that he started paying attention. He would catch a glance every now and then between us or a touch in passing which lasted just a bit longer than necessary and he became suspicious. Then he began noticing certain habits you developed which reminded him just a little too much of me. It doesn't help that you have my chin and hair coloring. Finally, he confronted your mother and she admitted the truth, admitted it was me she loved and that you were  _my_  child," he said bitterly. "He locked her away in the north tower for three days. He had sent me off once again on some labor dispute. I was furious when I returned. He threatened me that if tried to run with her, he would hunt us down and kill  _you,_ Belle. He would leave us be and murder our child. We couldn't let him hurt you, my darling."

          "So, you sacrificed your love for me. How am I supposed to live with that?" she asked incredulously. "You lost everything because of  _me_."

          He rose from his throne and knelt humbly before her, taking her hands in his and beseeching her to understand. "No. Don't ever think that. It was because of us that Moe became bitter and selfish. He was consumed with our betrayal. He loved us, and we betrayed him. It is  _our_  fault. In his own way, though, I think he loved you. I think what we did drove him a bit mad and he wasn't able to show you."

          "Oh, yes, just like he loved Mama. He gave her over to the clerics, father! You can't claim to love someone with one breath and condemn them with another!" she raged. "I always took it for granted that he loved me because he was my father. But he never truly loved anything but his power and how he could use it for his own gain. He cast mother to the wolves and then did the same to me, all because I dared to love a man he couldn't accept because he's different."

          Hugh wrapped his arm around her shoulders and let her weep against him. "He used her compassion against her. He'd forbid her to help those village women escape the order, but your mother was more concerned about helping others than she was her own safety. That last act of defiance was too much for him to bear. He later regretted it, mourned for her. To this day he has to live with the guilt that he killed the only woman he’d ever loved. He was never the same after that. It changed him, and he was never able to recover. But that is why he is as he is, daughter. I am just so very sorry you were hurt."

          "Driven to madness in his lust for vengeance. He hurt me and in so doing hurt you as well. Lovely!" she hissed angrily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: What we have left … Hugh and Belle have a conversation about Rumpelstiltskin, Belle says goodbye to Moe, wedding and honeymoon fluff and smut and Jeanette's surprise gift. I want to thank you, my faithful reviewers who have taken a moment to tell me such wonderful and inspiring things about this fic. Your heartfelt words make me want to spend hours spinning this tale solely for your enjoyment. I love every one of you.


	18. HAPPINESS

          Belle had her mother's beauty, her kindness, her forgiveness and Gods forbid … her temper. She cried for her parent's lost opportunity to have a life together, to have happiness and love, and her father held her close throughout her entire emotional breakdown. Then she got mad. She was furious everything had been taken from her parents and she was enraged they had given into Maurice's threat to her life. What kind of person threatens to murder a child? It took a while, but finally Hugh was able to get her to calm down. He had servants bring in a tea tray and a light lunch, coaxing Belle to eat. He didn't want her sorcerer to think he wasn't capable of taking care of her. Rumpelstiltskin might not bring her back. Speaking of which …

          "Belle, I'd really like you to reconsider and stay here with me. I want a chance to know you better. I've missed so much of your life and I'd like you to give me a chance to be a father to you," he said, his stiff soldier's exterior preventing him sometimes from being able to make his wishes clear.

          Belle's gaze was sympathetic as she smiled at her father. "Un — Father. I cannot stay. Even now Rumpelstiltskin is making preparations for our wedding. I cannot remain here in Avonlea. My place is with  _my_  true love. You can be assured I won't let mine slip away from me."

          Hugh's eyes were wide with astonishment, his lips parted on a gasp. "You're going to marry him? You actually  _love_  him? He's mad and manic … and really rather insane. How can you love someone like that?"

          Belle laughed at him. "He saved me, father. No matter how much he fought to hold onto his hate, he couldn't stop himself from loving me. He understands me and listens to me as though what I have to say is precious to him. Never would he treat me as something only worthy to bear his sons or show off with pride as an adornment. He sees me as his equal instead of a possession."

          "I know he does, daughter. I could see the pain he was in that night when he couldn't go to you. I understand you can't choose who you fall in love with, but couldn't you have chosen a man instead of a monster?" he questioned, still trying to come to terms with her choice.

          "Rumpelstiltskin is not a monster. He is an honorable man who took on a curse to save his son. Won't you give him a chance? Try to know the man who will be your son-in-law?" she asked, her teeth worrying her bottom lip as she waited anxiously for his answer.

          "How can you feel safe with him without the dagger's thrall? He could lose his temper with you and hurt you, Belle. His power is nigh limitless," he continued to argue.

          "Because I trust him just as much as I love him. I want to have a relationship with you, father, but I can't have strife between the two of you," she stated firmly, her chin rising with the strength of her resolve. "I want you to give him a chance … for me."

          Hugh couldn't resist the pleading in her eyes any more than he could ever resist Jeanette. "I will, daughter." He was surprised when she rose from her chair to throw her arms around his neck and pull him into a warm embrace, her happiness evident in her bright smile. "I promise I will try for you."

          "Thank you. Rumpel has already promised he will bring me to visit on the eve of the Winter Solstice next month. I am certain later we can arrange other visits. And you will be welcome to come see me at the Dark Castle."

          "Says who?" Rumpelstiltskin asked as he appeared before them, releasing the woman he'd brought with him. "Making promises you can't keep, dearest?" Hugh stiffened in affront. Belle noticed the mage was smiling as he said this and swatted him playfully as he pulled her into his arms.

          "Stop teasing, love. My father doesn't realize that you are."

          "Yes, he may visit. Whatever makes you happy," he smirked, tipping her chin up and taking in her haggard appearance. "You've been weeping." He turned to glare at the king. "Why has she been weeping?" he asked, his voice low and menacing. His hands dug sharply into her hips as he frowned down at her. "Who do I need to kill?"

          Belle's eyes widened just before she let a burst of laughter escape her rosebud mouth. "No one! There will be no killing. Didn't you have enough of that with the ogres just days ago?"

          He nibbled teasingly at her lips. "There's always room for a little killing, dear one." He released her bottom lip to grin at her. "That was a quip, Belle. Not serious."

          Hugh had dropped down onto his throne, shaking his head at his daughter and her betrothed. He thought them both not only odd, but completely insane. Belle glanced over Rumpelstiltskin's shoulder and studied the woman her imp had dropped in the middle of the room. "Who's this, Rumpel?"

          Belle took in the woman draped in fine silk robes and dripping with gold and silver bracelets and a large crystal hanging about her neck. Her hair was coal black and hung free and loose down to her waist. But what surprised her the most was that she didn't seem to be unsettled by Rumpelstiltskin. He glanced over his shoulder and nodded at the woman, giving her leave to find refreshment. They would fetch her when they were ready.

          "That, dear one, is Zera. She is the high priestess from Truesdale, the village near the Dark Castle. When she was a wee babe, her grandmother called me to heal her. I never collected on that debt, so it passed onto her. She was more than happy to come here and perform the ceremony since the debt passed to her. Lovely woman, good family," he said, a high compliment coming from him.

          Belle smiled brightly, her fears they wouldn't be able to find anyone to marry them laid to rest. "Now, love, isn't there something you wished to ask of my father?"

          The grieved expression which stole over his features was nearly comical. "Must I, pet?"

          She tugged playfully at the hair brushing against his collar. "You are the one who insisted you wanted to do things properly," she gently reminded him.

          "Oh, very well." He leaned closer to whisper in her ear. "What if he says no?" he asked in all seriousness, frowning in trepidation and worry.

          "Then I shall marry you anyway," she promised fiercely. Nothing would stop their vows today. They'd endured too much on their road to happiness and she wouldn't let anything, or anyone, stand in their way.

          Rumpelstiltskin reluctantly released the iron grip he had about her waist and scowled at the task before him as he took her hand and led her to stand before the king. "Sire," he bowed low before the monarch. "I respectfully ask for your daughter's hand in marriage," he said formally and waited with bated breath for Hugh's answer.

          Her father regarded the two of them for a long moment. He had to fight back a grin as he watched the sorcerer glance nervously between him and the princess. "You can provide for my daughter in the manner she is accustomed?"

          Rumpelstiltskin raised a sardonic brow. "I spin straw into gold. I don't see that as a problem, majesty," he said dryly. Belle poked him sharply in the ribs and he erupted into a nervous giggle.

          Hugh had to bite his tongue to stop his laughter from bubbling forth. "You will allow her to visit her family? Keep her well protected at all times and out of the trouble she ofttimes finds herself in?" Again, the imp answered in the affirmative. "You really love her?"

          "More than my life, sire," he promised, his warm amber gaze resting on his beloved.

          Hugh turned to his daughter. "Belle, you truly want this man for your husband?" he asked hesitantly. If this was what she truly wanted, he would not deny her. She deserved the happiness and love which had been denied her parents.

          "Yes, father. More than anything," she breathed, laying her hand aside Rumpelstiltskin's cheek, her eyes full of the love she felt for him. "I can't imagine my life without him."

          Hugh ran a hand through his short-cropped hair and walked down the steps from the dais to stand before them. He enveloped his daughter in his arms and hugged her tightly. "Then you have my blessing, daughter," he consented, releasing her to shake the hand of her betrothed.

          "Thank you, father," she replied as Rumpelstiltskin coiled his arms around her waist and kissed her soundly.

 

*.*.*

 

          As soon as Hugh gave his blessing for them to marry, Clara came to whisk Belle off to a chamber to bathe and dress for the ceremony which would be held at sunset. Rumpelstiltskin would tell her nothing of the details, promising she would be happy and that the ceremony was an age-old tradition from the time when he was human, before taking on the Dark Curse.

          Clara supervised her bath to which Belle was not pleased at all. She was more than capable of a simple bath and balked at the suggestion of being bathed by several of her servants. Her skin was red and raw by the time they let her out of the water to usher her into her bedroom to be soothed with rose oil and have her hair dressed. Her long chestnut tresses were braided with a gold ribbon, the color representing her husband's crest. She wasn't surprised to learn later that his crest consisted of a golden dragon on a blood red background.

          He had sent a simple white gown to her chamber, made of the softest cotton. It was long and flowing with a corset style bodice. Another tradition. The only color her attire was afforded was the gold ribbon laced through her braid and a wreath of wildflowers Clara arranged on her head. An hour before sunset, she was led down the corridors of the castle to the main entrance which led out into the courtyard and to the gate.

          Rumpelstiltskin was waiting for her, dressed in simple peasant garb in the same soft cotton as she wore. For someone so prone to flamboyance, he had opted for tradition instead of pomp and ceremony and she loved him for it all the more.

          Hugh Beaumont took his place between them and led them out the front gate and down the main path through the village. Zera would be waiting for them in a meadow on the outskirts of the village to perform the ceremony. Many villagers, upon noticing their princess and their king, began following so they might witness the marriage ceremony of their beloved princess to her chosen mate.

          Her chosen mate being who he was, they kept a good distance behind them. Whispers broke through the crowd about how the royal would be marrying the dark sorcerer, but Belle ignored them all. She was proud to be marrying her love and cared not what anyone thought. Her husband to be wore an expression of love mingled with pride and true happiness, the first he'd experienced in centuries and any censure they may be confronted with paled in comparison and could not dampen the moment for either of them.

          They came to stand before the high priestess and Zera smiled at the couple. Hugh drew his sword from his scabbard and handed it to her, so she could call down a blessing upon it before beginning the ceremony. Her voice was clear in the gentle autumn air as a hush fell over those there to witness the nuptials.

          "Lord Rumpelstiltskin, if it is truly your desire to become one with this woman, then present unto her a symbol of your pledge and a token of your love," Zera said, handing the sword to Rumpelstiltskin.

          He dropped to one knee before Belle and presented the sword with her ring on it. He had to force himself to pay attention to the high priestess and not get lost in the blinding beauty of his bride's smile and all the love in the world shining in her eyes, love for  _him_.

          Zera continued, "Lady Belle, you are the most gracious and lovely one who Rumpelstiltskin has ever seen, for he understands the essence of your true self. The beauty which radiates around you can only be rivaled by the beauty which radiates from within you. The pledge of his sword is as the pledge of his soul. It is his prowess, his fire, his passion, his strength and courage. His ability to protect, defend and care for you. With the strength of his blade and the endurance of its steel to represent what is in his heart, take from him now, as his beloved, the ring which rests upon it, and choose him to be your own.

          Belle's hand trembled as she reached out to take the ring from the tip of the sword. "I accept the pledge of your blade and the eternal promise of this wedding band," she said, her cerulean eyes dark with emotion and wet with tears. Belle then took the sword from him and with the tip of the blade, touched his left shoulder, then his right and finally the top of his bowed head as if bestowing knighthood to her betrothed as she spoke the words which would bind her to him. "For the boy you were, for the man you are, and for the husband you shall be to me, I do choose you to be my own. She returned the sword to Rumpelstiltskin. "If you will now place this ring upon my finger, I shall from this day forth, 'till beyond the end of time, take you to be my own." Belle opened her palm to reveal his ring, which he then slid onto her finger, his own eyes gleaming with moisture.

          He placed a kiss to her finger where his ring now rested, her hand grasped tightly in his. "With this ring, I thee wed. I take you as my friend, my lover, my wife from this day forth and into the fullness of time where we will meet and remember and love again."

          Zera motioned for him to rise from his knee and turned to Belle. "Lady Belle, if it is truly your desire to become one with this man, then present him with a symbol of your pledge and a token of your love."

          Clara brought forward a golden chalice, studded with emeralds, sapphires and rubies, containing the gold band Belle had chosen for her imp. Belle took it from her and bowed to him, holding tightly to the cup to keep from dropping it with her shaking hands.

          Rumpelstiltskin stated clearly so all may hear, "I accept the pledge of your chalice and the eternal promise of this wedding band."

          Again, Zera called attention to their promise by stating, "Lord Rumpelstiltskin, in the eyes of this woman, you are the only man in this world. Yours is the voice of sound reason and unwavering support. You are the spark to the bonfires of her passions and yours are the arms in which she would lay down in rest. The pledge of her chalice is the pledge of all that is within her. Her felicity and devotion. The place in her heart where two souls can be sheltered and nourished, that they may grow together, ever closer and flourish as the leaves on the trees and the fruits of the vine. As the depths and bounty of her chalice foretell the richness of your future together, take from her now the band which lies there within, and do choose her as your own."

          Rumpelstiltskin reached into the chalice, still held tightly in Belle's clasped hands, and held it in his palm. "I accept the pledge of your chalice and the eternal promise of this wedding band." Hugh stepped forward and presented the groom with a flask of wine. Rumpelstiltskin poured the wine into the chalice and took it from Belle, holding it aloft in a toast. "For the girl you were, for the woman you are, and for the wife you shall be to me, I toast and drink to you." He drank long and deep from the chalice until he'd drained every last drop of wine. "And I do choose you to be my own," he vowed, handing the chalice back to Belle and winking at her. He held out the band to Belle and proclaimed, "If you will now place this ring upon my finger, I shall from this day forth, 'till beyond the end of time, take you to be my own."

          Happy tears trailed unchecked down her cheeks as she took the ring from his palm and placed it on his finger and just as he had done, she pressed her lips to his finger, kissing it reverently. "With this ring, I thee wed. I take you as my friend, my lover and my husband from this day forth and into the fullness of time where we will meet and remember and love again."

          Zera took their hands and joined them together. "May the Gods bless and keep you. My lord, you may now kiss your bride."

          Rumpelstiltskin pulled Belle into his arms and gently pressed his lips to hers, a tender molding of their lips to seal their promise. He wanted to shout for joy and sigh in relief at the same time. She'd pledged herself to him before the gods and witnesses. She was his wife, his love, his future. "It's forever, dear one. That's a long time to put up with an old beast," he teased as he offered his arm to lead her back to the castle for the small reception her father had insisted upon having for them.

          "Yes, my husband, but you're my beast and I love you. Forever won't be long enough."

 

*.*.*

 

          Belle took a break from the dancing to have a seat next to her father and confront him with the gossip which had finally reached her ears. She sat down and quirked a sardonic brow at Hugh Beaumont, an expression not unlike the one usually found on her husband's face. "Were you going to tell me what the council had decided or just let me skip off happily on my honeymoon none the wiser?" she asked, her eyes flashing fire.

          Hugh had the grace to look ashamed. "I had nothing to do with it, daughter. I couldn't pass judgment on Maurice for his crimes because he is my brother. The council of elders came to the decision on their own."

          Belle pinched the bridge of her nose to ward off the pain building behind her eyes. "How much time does he have left?"

          Hugh took her hand in his and squeezed gently. "He will be executed in three days’ time," he sighed. She could see the sadness and a hint of guilt behind his hazel eyes. He felt as though he'd failed Maurice, blamed himself for his brother's descent into madness.

          Belle watched her husband spin Clara about the dance floor, mustering up a small smile for him as they passed, and his gaze captured hers. "I'd like to see him. I won't ask Rumpelstiltskin to delay our honeymoon trip to stay and watch the man I grew up knowing as my father face the gallows. I'd like to have a chance to say goodbye to him."

          "Would you like to see him now?" Hugh asked, rising from his throne.

          "I'd like to wait just a moment for my husband. He won't approve if I go without him. I just pray he doesn't make it worse," she murmured the last with a grimace. She didn't think anyone could despise Maurice Beaumont more than her sorcerer.

 

*.*.*

 

          "This is a horrible idea, pet! He ordered you to be tortured, made your life a living hell, and was responsible for your mother's death. He doesn't deserve a visit from you," Rumpelstiltskin hissed angrily as he escorted her along the corridor to the dungeons.

          Belle swept past her father as he held the door open for her before answering. "I know, my love. But he raised me, was my father and I can't, in good conscience, not offer him my forgiveness before he meets his end. He's going to pay for the damage he's caused, the lives he's ruined and that should be enough."

          "Forgiveness! Are you daft?"

          "We are not having this conversation, Rumpelstiltskin." She whirled on him and gentled her tone, her arms circling his waist. "I need to do this," she said, her eyes pleading with him to understand.

          He hugged her tightly and dropped a kiss to her brow. "As you wish, pet."

          Hugh frowned as his gaze ping-ponged between them. "Daughter, why does he call you _pet?"_ he asked curiously and just a bit indignantly as she moved away from her husband to follow Hugh down the dank passageway.

          She laughed at his expression. "When I became his mistress, he used that name to see if he could rile me. It slowly changed into a loving endearment. I don't mind, so neither should you, father."

          "Only you would think so. Any other woman would be offended."

          "Any other woman wouldn't have fallen in love with him. Most women see only the outside; in his case they would see the monster. I saw his heart," she told him, her voice taking on a wistful tone. Her father looked down on her with awe-filled eyes, proud she was so like Jeanette, so kind and loving and pure of heart.

          Maurice Beaumont sat up on the stone slab which served as his bed, the thin thread-bare blanket falling to pool around his waist as he heard their approach. It was more than the Dark One had had during his long incarceration and enslavement. Rumpelstiltskin hung back in the shadows to allow Belle to have her needed time to say goodbye without his interference. He would be there to pick up the pieces of her heart after the deposed king broke it once again.

          Belle stepped up to the cell, hanging back out of arm's reach. "Hello, Papa," she said, forcing her voice to remain steady. She hadn't forgotten the cold blade of the dagger he'd pressed to her throat that night in the tower room of the temple.

          "Belle," he acknowledged, stepping up to the bars to see her better in the torchlight.

          "I've come to say goodbye, Papa, and that I forgive you," she whispered softly, a single tear escaping the corner of her eye before she could blink it away.

          Maurice snorted. "I don't need or want your forgiveness. If you want to do something for me, convince my brother to let me out of here. This is absurd," he barked, his voice rising in his anger.

          "I've already told you, Moe. It was the council who passed sentence on you," Hugh sighed, tired of the same argument he'd already had several times with his brother.

          "Papa, please. I loved you. I never understood you, but I  _did_  love you and I forgive you for trying to hurt me. I forgive you for hurting Mama," she whispered, unable to keep the raw emotion from rising to choke her.

          "Your mother was a whore! She went behind my back and had a child with my own brother," Maurice raged, his eyes wild, a window into his tortured soul. He whirled away from the bars, giving her his back.

          Belle rushed toward the bars and reached through to place her hand on his shoulder. "Please, Papa, I —" Her words were cut off as he turned on her and grasped her wrist in a punishing grip.

          Rumpelstiltskin was there in a blink, his hand around Maurice's beefy throat. "I'll thank you to release my wife," he hissed through clenched teeth, his hand steadily squeezing until the man's lips took on a bluish tinge. Maurice let go of Belle and she clasped her injured wrist to her chest, rubbing the reddened flesh gently with her other hand.

          "Rum, stop!" Belle cried, placing herself in her husband's line of sight. Rumpelstiltskin released him and took her wrist in his hand to inspect it for damage. He wrapped his arm around her waist and moved her back from the bars once more to what he deigned a safe distance.

          Maurice fought to regain his breath, pointing an accusing finger at Belle. "You married him? You married a monster! You're just like your mother. Whore! The monster's whore! You'll burn, Belle. You'll burn in hell!"

          Belle wept against her husband's shoulder as Hugh approached the bars and planted his fist in Maurice's gaping mouth. "Haven't you hurt her enough, you ass?!" Maurice sprawled back on the dirt floor and held a hand to his mouth. He was spitting blood and teeth when Rumpelstiltskin let out a shrill giggle and moved to follow the king back up the passageway, having gained newfound respect for his father-in-law.

          He glanced down at his wife, still holding her close to his side as they left the dungeon behind. "Well that went well."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Alright, dearies! How'd you enjoy the wedding? I wanted something special (thanks to Twyla Mercedes for suggesting I do something really special for them). So, I started looking at older customs and came up with the "Sword, Chalice and Ring Exchange". I may have tweaked it just a bit at the end, but it is adapted from Ed Fitch's "Right's from the Crystal Well" (which I have no rights to and do not own *disclaimer alert*). I just thought it was so perfect for them in this fic that I had to use it. Let me know what ya'll think. And yes, Maurice is such a bastard! Love you all and thanks again for all your love and support and encouragement throughout the writing process. xoxoxo


	19. HONEYMOON

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains adult themes … reader discretion is advised.

          "Clara seems to be doing quite well," Hugh commented casually to his daughter as they sat down together at one of the small tables set away from the dance floor. He noticed Belle's faithful companion looked particularly splendid in the dove gray silk gown she wore. Before Belle had been born, she had been Jeanette's childhood friend. She'd given up her own dreams of marriage and family to remain with the new queen, unwilling to be parted from her. She'd then chosen to be nursemaid to their daughter, always watching over her ladies as if it was her sworn and chosen duty. But he couldn't ever remember seeing her so open and carefree, her elevated status as lady in waiting to the sorcerer's wife seeming to give her new life.

          "Yes, father, Clara has really taken to her new position. She's free to be herself without the strictures of society." She eyed her father with a suspicious eye, his attention to her friend not going unnoticed. "Um … father, you … ah … you don't mind if Clara remains here at the castle while Rum and I are on our honeymoon trip, do you?" she asked sweetly. The way his eyes were eating up the pretty blonde, she wondered if he had even heard her. Clara was still a fine looking woman at thirty six. She'd only been eighteen, the same age as Jeanette, when Belle had been born.

          "Whatever you like, daughter," he said, his mind clearly distracted, the food on his plate forgotten. "Yes, she may stay as long as she wishes."

          "What pleases you so, pet?" Rumpelstiltskin asked as he sat down next to her with a large piece of wedding cake for them to share. He lifted the fork to her smiling lips for a bite of the confection.

          She dutifully opened her mouth and accepted the offering before leaning close to his ear. "Look at my father, Rum. I think he's noticed the change in our Clara and he's utterly besotted," she giggled.

          Rumpelstiltskin raised a brow and looked between his wife and her father and then followed Hugh's gaze to their friend dancing in the arms of Lord Moore. "I think you've had too much wine," he scoffed.

          Belle snorted and took the fork from him, feeding him a bite of cake. "It's the same expression you wear when you look at me, my darling husband," she purred against his lips as she moved in close, her tongue licking at the bit of frosting which hadn't made it into his mouth. A delicious tingle began along her spine as she swallowed his gasp of surprise.

          The cake lay abandoned as he delved his hands into her hair, holding her in place as he deepened the kiss. He pulled away slightly and nearly lost the last shred of his control as he took her in. Her eyes were heavily-lidded and dark with desire, her swollen lips parted, and her face flushed a lovely pink. And he couldn't remember ever wanting her more. He was still suffering disbelief that she was finally his. His beloved wife. He groaned as he thought of the night ahead and the control he was going to have to exert to keep his passion in check. He didn't want to be overzealous and hurt her.

          He cleared his throat and put a bit of distance between them, retaining his grip on her wrist where his thumb traced soft circles on her sensitive flesh. "Miss Clara can handle Hugh. She had to deal with Maurice enough over the years. And for some reason she deals well with me, so we know she's got thick skin. Hugh won't be a problem for her. You spoke to her and asked if she wished to remain while we are away?"

          "I did," Belle confirmed.

          "You made it clear that she is not to be looked on as a servant?"

          "Yes, darling. I took care of everything."

          He rose from his seat, unable to contain his eagerness any longer. His excitement over his surprise for Belle couldn't be put off any longer. He longed to see the happiness on her face when she discovered where they would be spending their wedding night. "Time to say goodbye, then, wife."

          It didn't take long to bid farewell to the only two people at the reception she cared about, one being her father and the other Clara. She promised she would return in a fortnight to collect her friend and tell her father all about her travels with her husband, barring certain details, of course. When she was finally released from her father's embrace, it was to find Clara giving Rumpelstiltskin the third degree.

          "Make certain you take care of our lady, you imp."

          "Yes, madam."

          "Make certain she's warm. She doesn't do well in the cold."

          "Yes, madam."

          "I have no idea where you're taking her, but you'd best make certain she's well protected."

          "Madam!"

          Belle hugged her friend tightly as she stepped between her and Rumpelstiltskin. She hadn't been able to ignore the pleading look in his eyes another second. Clara returned her embrace. "Have a wonderful time, milady."

          Rumpelstiltskin led her from the ballroom and stopped in the corridor to haul her into his arms. "Are you ready, pet?" he asked, pleased when she nodded. "I hate that I can't delay our departure until morning, but I'm afraid I won't be able to restrain myself that long. I wish you could see it during daylight hours."

          Belle laid her head against his shoulder and nuzzled his neck. "I don't care where we're going, Rumpel. Just so long as we're together it will be perfect," she smiled with contentment. In a blink, she could feel the floor fall away from her feet as they embraced the void. She felt dizzy and weightless as his magic carried them away from Avonlea, but she'd never felt safer and more secure in his arms.

          Her eyes remained closed, happy to let her husband hold her close. She could feel the sand inching its granules into her slippers, hear the sound of rushing water and she knew where he had brought her. Her smile only grew in brightness as he said, "Open your eyes, dear one." He turned her in his arms so her back rested against his chest and she could take in the sight before her. His warm breath caressed her ear, his arms wrapped loosely about her waist. "I thought it would be fitting to come here since this is where I fell in love with you."

          Belle couldn't keep the raw emotion from her voice as she whispered, "It couldn't be more perfect, love. But where are we going to sleep?" she asked, knowing she wouldn't be getting much sleep that night, but unable to put voice to her real meaning.

          He scooped her up into his arms and turned to walk along the sand. She covered her mouth with her hand, a small gasp of surprise permeating the still air. "Rum, is that …"

          He chuckled softly, his expression positively impish. "A tent fit for a sultan, pet. Fancy being my harem slave girl?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows at her.

          Belle let out a nervous giggle, her stomach jumping and coiling in anticipation and fear. "Wh-Wherever did you get it?" she asked as he carried her through the silken tent flap into the cavernous enclosure. He set her down in what appeared to be a sitting area, complete with a low table surrounded by cushions to sit on, a tea set the table's only adornment. He pulled back another silk covering to show her a copper tub should she wish to bathe.

          He could feel the slight tremor in her hands as he took both of hers in his and tugged gently toward the back of the tent, walking backward so he wouldn't miss the slightest nuance of her expression. The breath caught in her throat as she took in their sleeping area. It looked as if it had been conjured right out of a sultan's boudoir.

          The floor of the tent was covered in thick plush rugs and the walls were covered in silk hangings in a multitude of colors in different shades of blue and gold. One side of the tent was covered only in a sheer gauzy material which showed a spectacular view of the moonlit lake, but it didn't let in the cold. The entire tent was warm with no hint of any heat source, thanks to her sorcerer. But it was the bed which captured her attention, low to the floor and piled high with pillows of all shapes and sizes, the duvet matching the gold and blue silk hangings.

          She moved to the bed and lifted the nightgown laid across the duvet. It was white lace which left little to the imagination and she blushed just thinking of donning it. Thin straps would hold it to her shoulders. Good thing, since it was backless and a long slit in the side would allow easy movement and show off a good bit of her legs. Another gift from her beloved. Her beloved, who was watching her avidly with an odd expression on his face, almost as if he were nervous.

          "Do ... ah … do you like our accommodations?" he asked hesitantly, hoping everything would meet with her approval. He wanted her to be happy. He wanted her to relax and enjoy herself. "The sultan of Agrabah lost this little love nest in a deal. I just knew I'd find a use for it one day."

          Belle moved to stand before him, her teeth worrying her lower lip. "I love it," she breathed, her gaze dropping to his mouth.

          He stopped her with a finger to her lips before she could close the distance between them. "I'll give you some … uh … some privacy to change, dearest. I won't be long." He slipped out of the tent through the opening in the sitting room and then into the fresh cool night air, breathing deeply and praying his ardor would cool before he returned to her.

 

*.*.*

 

          After nearly an hour in the frigid waters of the lake, he felt somewhat more in control, enough to join Belle once again in the tent. He didn't understand why he was reacting this way to her now. He had lain with her many a night, holding her, touching her, lavishing her with the attention of his mouth and his control had never failed him. But now that she was his wife, it made all the difference. She was his, well and truly his. Given to him by her father and blessed by the Gods.

          And now he was nervous as a youth with his first maid. The Dark One was locked up tight in his cage, a shiny golden chain and lock keeping him bound, fashioned from the love Belle lavished upon him. The spinner, his human side, dominant for the first time in centuries. But what if it wasn't enough for her? He shook his head to belay the thought. No, she loved him, all of him and he would make certain she was never disappointed.

          Rumpelstiltskin ducked through the tent flap and stood silent and still, reaching for her with his heightened awareness. Her essence glowed like the gold band on his finger, calm, happy and completely relaxed. He wished he could say the same for himself. Belle was lying on the frameless bed, resting on her stomach facing towards the sheer curtain and the full view of the picturesque waterfall in the distance. She had her left hand stretched out in front of her, studying the rings there which sparkled in the light of a lone oil lamp.

          "I was beginning to wonder if you would ever come in out of the water and join me," she murmured, her voice gentle and teasing. "You must be freezing." She glanced at him over her shoulder and lifted the duvet, so he could slide in next to her. "Come in, Rumpel, so I can warm you."

          A shiver of delight traced up his spine at the sight of unadulterated desire on her face as he dropped the towel about his hips and climbed into bed with her. He wouldn't let her turn to face him, spooning instead against her back. All his efforts to bank his raging lust had been in vain. "I thought a swim might help," he offered lamely as he pulled her back against his chest and buried his face in the curls at her nape, breathing her in and letting her scent envelop him.

          She jumped reflexively as his icy skin came in contact with her own heated flesh. "Gods! You're so cold," she gasped, shivering.

          "I'll warm soon enough. Where is your gown? I didn't expect you to be bare, my dearest," he whispered softly against her shoulder, his hands splaying on her stomach as he nipped at the sensitive spot just beneath her ear. "Not that I'm complaining in the least."

          "I … ah … I knew it was going to end up in a heap on the floor anyway, so I just decided against wearing it. Maybe I'll wear it for you later, hmm?" A needy whimper escaped her throat before she was able to bite it back. His calloused spinner's hands, in motion on her bare flesh, made delicious heat coil in her belly and she wasn't able to stop herself from squirming in his embrace. Again, he prevented her from turning in his arms to face him. "Rumpel, please. I want to touch you, too."

          His hand ghosted over her hip, his nails scraping gently along her outer thigh. He nipped against the curve of her neck, finally free to mark her as he liked. "Me first," he whispered, his breath warm on her ear, sending gooseflesh erupting along her arms. "I don't think I could bear to have you touch me just yet, love." Her answer was a deep throaty moan as his hands grazed the curls at the apex of her thighs. He slid his arm beneath her head, and wrapped it around her to cup her breast, his long fingers rolling the nipple between them. She pressed her hips forward against his hand, yearning to be closer, willing him to move, needing the contact. He lifted her leg and draped it over his own, opening her to his touch.

          He hadn't touched her like this since the night of her 'punishment', afraid that to do so would completely shatter what flimsy hold he had on his control, afraid he wouldn't be able to stop until he was able to claim her fully. Now as he stroked her delicate folds, he was glad he'd waited. He was painfully hard, his cock pressed against the small of her back as she writhed against him. She was hot and wet against his hand as he stroked her clit with his thumb, one lone finger dipping into her opening to tease her. He was entirely focused solely on her pleasure as he added a second, stretching her tight walls, moving in and out in a steady rhythm.

          Rumpelstiltskin could feel the beginnings of her climax as she tightened around his hand. "I love you, my Belle," he whispered, his voice strained with the severe tension coiling through his own body. He bit down where her shoulder met her neck and she screamed long and loud as she shattered for him. He continued to move within her, bringing her down slowly as he sucked her flesh into his mouth.

          "Rumpel … I love you, too. Please …" she moaned, her breathing labored as her heart beat furiously against her ribs. "I need … I need you," she panted. “I need to feel you inside me.” She needed to feel more than his hands on her fevered flesh. She needed to feel him pressed to her, joined together with her lover, her husband, in the most intimate way possible. She wanted to be filled with him.

          Gently he rolled her beneath him and claimed her lips with his own, trying to temper his passion as her tongue swiped at his bottom lip, begging for him to open to her. Then it was his turn to lose himself to her, her tongue moving tentatively against his own, searching out the places in his mouth which brought him the most pleasure. She carded her fingers in his hair, reveling in the softness, showing her impatience by tugging and pulling him closer, scraping her nails roughly against his nape and making him moan.

          "Belle, love … please," he murmured against her lips, trying to soothe her. She was inflamed in her need and didn't want to slow, feeling as though she'd waited long enough, had endured enough of his sensuous torture over the last month. He cupped her face in his hands and made her meet his gaze. "I don't want to hurt you, pet. At least no more than what is inevitable."

          "You won't," she insisted. She could feel him, so close, pressing at her opening. She spread her legs wider to accommodate him, her hips cradling him. He placed her hands on his shoulders and entered her in one swift stroke, his eyes never leaving her face as she cried out.

          "I'm sorry, sweetling, so sorry … shh … I'm sorry … I love you …" he crooned, raining soft gentle kisses over her face in an effort to soothe her. "Do you want me to stop, my Belle?" he asked, praying to every deity he'd ever heard of and some he hadn't that she would be alright, that she wouldn't ask him to stop. He remained perfectly still, her core clenching him tightly. Pleasure rolled over him in waves, an exquisite torture to finally be sheathed in her heat. His heart wrenched in his chest, the experience that much better because it wasn't just some female to be had, but his wife, his beloved.

          Belle released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and pulled his lips down to hers as she adjusted to his size. He filled her as though he'd been made just for her and she moved her hips, drawing a gasp from him. She didn't feel the pain anymore, only a slight ache quickly being replaced by warm tendrils of pleasure which spread through her limbs. He breathed a ragged sigh of relief against her neck as he began to move within her, smooth slow strokes so as not to hurt her, giving her time to let the tension build within her again.

          He paid homage to her neck, her collarbone, her breasts, and drew her legs around his waist, the angle allowing him to thrust deeper within her. Her nails scored the flesh of his back, leaving red streaks, the pain increasing the pleasure coursing through him. His movements became faster, deeper, harder as she bit down on his shoulder and he knew he wouldn't last much longer.

          "Tell me, dearest," he moaned against her mouth, nipping at her lower lip.

          "I love you," she bit out, so consumed by what he was making her feel she was nearly incoherent. But it was understood and merely inflamed him more. And it was enough to send him plummeting over the edge, his body trembling as he spilled his seed into her dripping core. He moved his hand between them and rubbed his thumb over her clit, the pressure against her bundle of nerves enough to send her spiraling through the void with him.

          A whimper escaped her throat as he slipped from her body and rolled to her side so as not to crush her with his weight, pulling her close and tucking her against his side. Belle laid her head on his chest and placed a soft kiss over his heart. It was a long moment before their breathing returned to normal and their hearts stopped trying to beat out of their chests. His fingers trailed through her long curls as he lifted her hand to kiss her fingertips.

          "Are you alright, pet?" he asked, his voice low and concerned. "Did I hurt you terribly?"

          "It was perfect, my love," she whispered into the stillness of the tent. She leaned up to place a soft kiss against his pulse, feeling his heartbeat beneath her lips. "I well and truly belong to you in every way now, Rumpel. How do  _you_  feel, my husband?"

          "Happy. For the first time … actually, no. I can't remember ever being this happy. Because of you, my Belle. I love you so much," he said reverently, crushing her to his chest with the strength of his love for her.

          Belle sighed contentedly and let sleep take her, wrapped warm and secure in her husband's embrace.

 

*.*.*

 

          Over the next two weeks, Belle saw more of the realm than she'd ever dreamed existed. He took her to the ocean and let her swim with the mermaids, always under his ever-watchful gaze. They thought her lovely, making her sit in the cove with them and lavishing her with attention. They braided her hair with pearls and shells, and Rumpelstiltskin teased her, telling her she looked like a sea nymph. They met Ariel and her prince in that kingdom by the sea and became fast friends. Another friend to correspond with and share visits. Belle was most pleased they hadn’t shied away from Rumpelstiltskin, that they were true and genuine in offering their friendship. Of course, her sorcerer husband hadn’t cared as long as Belle was happy.

          He’d taken her to the mountains and they’d explored caves. Although, after a close call with a particularly nasty dragon, he'd swept them off to another location. One of her favorites had been an oasis on the outskirts of Agrabah where they'd met an interesting Bedouin tribe. They'd been fascinated by Rumpelstiltskin's strange complexion, thinking him a desert sprite. She'd then been able to tease him mercilessly. The sheik's harem had taken to Belle and taught her many of their customs. Rumpelstiltskin was insistent she learn their native dances. She got to play harem slave girl after all, much to his delight … and hers. He’d made certain she had several dancing girl costumes to bring home to the Dark Castle.

          Belle's skin had taken on a golden tan by the time they’d returned to Avonlea for Clara. She’d spent hours regaling them with tales of the many adventures they'd shared on their honeymoon trip. Rumpelstiltskin remained unusually quiet while she’d visited with Hugh and Clara and it wasn't until the three of them had returned to the Dark Castle when she’d learned of his reasons to remain silent.

          "I don't think Clara will be remaining with us for very long," he'd said, brushing out Belle's hair as they’d sat before the fire.

          "Why? You said she could stay as long as she liked," she worried, turning to face him, a puzzled frown marring her brow.

          "She's in love with your father," he said simply.

          "She is not!"

          "'Fraid so, pet," he giggled. "I think the king has finally taken the time to notice what was right before him."

          "You really think so?"

          "And I think he's equally besotted with her. Mark my words, wife. He'll be making regular visits not just to see you … but her as well," he told her, lying the brush aside to nuzzle against her neck.

 

*.*.*

 

**_Three months later…_ **

 

          Rumpelstiltskin was locked away in his tower, piddling with his potions as Belle climbed the winding staircase to her bedroom. The castle was finally set back to rights after being in stasis for two decades or more. Just because he'd made sure it had been warded against intruders and protected from damages, didn't mean it wouldn't get dusty and filthy. He had allowed her to hire a cook, two gardeners and three maids to care for the Dark Castle, claiming his wife and her attending lady would not be lifting a finger to clean.

          The new servants could take care of whatever the enchantments could not. Stubborn imp, she thought with an indulgent smile. Their servants were happy for the work and always left in the evenings tired from their labor, but more than pleased to have work to go to everyday. At first, they had been terrified at the thought of working for the dark sorcerer, but slowly lost their fear the more they came to know the Lady of the Dark Castle. No one as sweet and kind as Belle would have married a monster.

          They were alone in the castle today, had been for a week now, the pass which led to the village blocked by the blizzard which had ravaged the mountainous area keeping the villagers who worked for them homebound.

          Clara had taken over the meal preparations and Belle had spent the last few days organizing her library. Her hand caressed her belly where she was certain new life rested within her. She'd missed her monthly only once and hadn't shared the news with her husband. She wanted to be certain before she surprised him with that joyous announcement. But she just knew, mostly by the way she'd been feeling so poorly in the mornings, they were expecting a child.

          Belle wasn't sure how he would greet the news of impending fatherhood when he was working so diligently on discovering a way to find Baelfire. She knew he would succeed, prayed he would succeed so they could be a family. He was consumed by his mission as he had been before he'd become Maurice's slave. She just wished there was some way she could help him.

          Her cerulean gaze fell on the letter atop her dresser, peeking from beneath her jewelry box and she frowned. She had been so busy becoming mistress of the castle, she'd forgotten about the puzzle her mother had left her in the form of her jewelry box. The letter had said she should be able to figure out the puzzle rather easily.

          She lifted the box in her hands and walked to her bed, crawling onto it and crossing her legs in the center. She dumped all her jewelry out and arranged it neatly on the coverlet, her lips turning up in a smile at the topaz and sapphire necklace Rumpelstiltskin had given to her for her birthday, the jewels causing her to remember the way they had danced at the ball.

          Once everything had been removed, she shook the box, curious when she heard a soft rattle. "Now I just need to figure out how to get to you," she spoke quietly, her voice echoing whisper soft through the room. She turned it over in her hands and traced the intricate lines and grooves, her brow drawn together in concentration. One piece was mysteriously missing, but it didn't look as though it had been broken off. She didn't want to ask her husband to use magic on the box to have it reveal its secrets; she wanted to solve the puzzle herself.

          But the more she studied it, the more aggravated she became, unable to discover its secrets. She dropped it to the bed and cursed softly as it jarred against her foot. Then she noticed that one of the grooves was wider than it had been before she’d dropped it. She picked it up once again and wedged her nail into the groove, watching excitedly as it moved. She tried another groove, this one smaller. And another. And another until they all lined up perfectly to form a carving of a rose in bloom. As she slid the last piece into place, a drawer popped open on the back of the chest.

          Inside the chest was a small blue velvet drawstring pouch. She wondered what could possibly be so valuable as to hide so securely in there and how expensive it could have been if this would have allowed her to escape from Avonlea. She opened it and spilled the contents in her hand, her eyes growing wide and the breath leaving her lungs in a loud whoosh. It wasn't possible.

          She didn't even stop to put her shoes back on, simply jumping off the bed and running full tilt towards the stairs leading to Rumpelstiltskin's work room. He was alarmed as she barreled through the closed door, her breathing ragged as she nearly collapsed in his arms.

          "Belle, what's wrong? What's happened?" he asked, his brow creased in concern, his hands searching her for injury. He relaxed a bit when she flashed him the happiest, most blinding smile he'd ever seen grace her features. "Belle! Tell me …"

          "I … I … solved the … puzzle," she gasped out.

          "What puzzle, pet?"

          "My mother's jewelry box. Remember, in the letter she said if I could solve the puzzle inside, would be something to help me escape Avonlea?"

          "Vaguely."

          She opened her palm, her smile widening at the awe on his face as he collapsed onto the stool he'd been sitting on when she'd burst into the room. "How is this possible? I was told there were no more in existence."

          "Beans! Magic beans! We can find Baelfire, Rumpel," she gushed excitedly as she dropped the four magic beans into his hand. "We've had the answer all along and didn't know it." She wiped away the moisture gathering in his eyes, his hopes and dreams of reuniting with his son now a reality. She pulled him to his feet and began dragging him from the tower to their bedroom. "Come on, love. I need to get my cloak and my shoes and at least one change of clothes. We don't want to pack too much because we don't want to be weighed down …"

          Rumpelstiltskin drew to an abrupt halt at the bottom of the stairs and then had to run to catch up to her. "What do you mean  _we_ , dearie? There is no  _we_  in this. It's entirely too dangerous. You have no idea where we might have to go to find him," he insisted, following her into their bedchamber.

          She turned on him with a raised brow and his own trademark smirk. "I hope you don't think you're going to leave me behind, Rumpelstiltskin. We're in this together. You wouldn't even have this chance if it hadn't been for me," she argued vehemently.

          He gentled as he pulled her into his embrace, smoothing a hand over her hair. "I don't want to put you in danger, dear one. I don't think I could bear it if something happened to you," he said fiercely.

          "But I will be with you, Rumpel. You have always protected me and now will be no different. I will  _not_  be parted from you."

          That's how an hour later they came to stand in the courtyard of the Dark Castle, Clara watching them anxiously from the front entranceway. "Are you certain, my Belle? You don't have to do this." His arms were wrapped tightly about her waist, hers locked around his neck as he prepared to throw the bean and open the portal.

          "I'm coming with you. Now throw it," she urged, ready for their newest adventure.

          "Just make sure you hold on tight," he said, tossing the bean. She buried her face against his neck and tightened her hold, nearly choking him. A swirling bright green vortex opened before them and he could feel his stomach clench with fear.  _You're not a coward. Think of how much courage it took to take on a curse to protect your son._

          His Belle's words floated through his mind and he steeled himself to take that step. That step which would lead him to his son, his Bae. He concentrated on where he wanted to go, the image of his boy firmly in his mind. He dropped a kiss to the top of his wife's head and jumped, his love in his arms and an uncertain landing ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope I did it justice, dearies. I'm really looking forward to hearing what you think. xoxoxo


	20. BAELFIRE

**_One year later …_ **

 

          The fourteen-year-old boy grinned down at the cooing bundle in his arms and couldn't help the wide grin which split his face in two. He felt so blessed to be big brother to the sweet child in his arms. Jenna Annette, she'd been christened, daughter of the Dark One and Princess Belle. She'd been blessed with her father's eyes, a deep whiskey brown with flecks of gold and his deep dimples with her mother's chestnut curls and sweet disposition. He wondered idly if she would inherit their papa's magic. He strolled through the vast corridors of the Dark Castle with four-month-old Jenna in his arms, finally having pried her away from his papa. Rumpelstiltskin was still an overprotective ogre when it came to his children.

          He could still remember the surprise he'd felt when he'd discovered his father in Neverland, a mysterious brunette tucked protectively to his side. They had cried, all three of them, joyous tears at being reunited. He'd despaired of ever seeing his father again and listened attentively to his papa's apologies for letting him go. Rumpelstiltskin had begged for forgiveness, trying to convince his son he was a changed man, that he no longer had to cling to his darkness. Belle was his light who kept him grounded and unafraid to face the future. He'd begged him to come home with them, so they could be a family, promising he wouldn't use his magic unless it was for good. A promise he'd kept.

          Bae had never wanted to leave Neverland more than he had at that moment. That moment when he could see the sincerity in his father's gaze, the blatant hopefulness which sparked from his very soul. He'd been more than a little surprised to come  _home_  to find he'd be living in a castle instead of the home he'd left so long ago in their poor village.

          It had taken a while to accept the fact he now had a stepmother, but Belle was too kind and loving not to fall completely in love with her. He’d been delighted to find out he’d soon have a brother or sister. Well … he’d been delighted to hear the news _after_ he’d picked his father up off the floor when he’d heard. He hadn’t known Rumpelstiltskin _could_ father children under the curse of the Dark One.

          Hugh Beaumont had taken an instant liking to Baelfire and regaled him of how the Dark One had succumbed to the charm of a princess and the trials they'd faced to be together. Bae had loved Belle even more after he'd heard  _that_  story. He'd giggled when his papa had sputtered and tried to cover the deep blush beneath his golden skin. He had his father back instead of the dark imp he'd become, only obsessed with power. Bae felt as though they all had a chance at happiness.

          Bae missed Clara, however. Rumpelstiltskin had been right when he'd said Hugh wouldn't waste much time claiming her as his own. They'd married in a quiet ceremony with only Bae, Belle and Rumpelstiltskin as witnesses. Not two months after they'd wed, a letter had been delivered announcing they were expecting. From what he'd learned about his step-grandfather, he deserved to find some happiness. And Avonlea would have a new heir, leaving Belle free to her own life and responsibilities. At least, Bae hoped they would be happy. He hadn't much cared for court life when he'd visited Avonlea. He was apparently too much like his father.

          He peeked around the doors leading into the Great Hall to spy on his papa and Belle. Rumpelstiltskin always looked upon his wife with such love shining on his face, he almost looked human, his strange amber eyes so warm as they rested on her. Jenna cooed sweetly at her big brother and grabbed the end of his nose, earning the same look of adoration their papa wore.

          Rumpelstiltskin sat at his spinning wheel and pulled his Belle down onto his lap, his fingertips tracing the curve of her jaw as he leaned in to kiss her. He pulled away and rested his brow to hers, cutting his eyes at the doorway. "Our children are spying on us, pet," he whispered softly as she tugged gently on the ends of his hair.

          "I know, love. Aren't they adorable?" she agreed, her warm laugh brushing over him like a physical caress.

          He stiffened in her embrace, causing her smile to slip. "Belle, what would have happened if you hadn't been abducted by Edward? What if …"

          Belle placed a finger to his lips to stop his worries from spilling forth. "Hush, my darling husband. Edward did us both a favor. If he hadn't abducted me, you would still be locked away in the dungeon and I would probably be trapped in a miserable loveless marriage. You saved us both that day, Rumpel."

          "I saved you, so you could in turn save me. And to think how furious I was with you when you took me as your slave."

          She giggled. "You really were furious when I ordered you to take a bath. Especially when I washed your hair," she giggled again, her laughter infectious.

          He quirked a brow and admitted, "I didn't properly appreciate you at first." His lips found the sensitive spot below her ear and her giggles turned into a rather contented sigh of pleasure.

          "I'm just happy you stopped shutting me out and finally let me into your heart," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper as she kissed him tenderly. "I love you so very much, Rumpelstiltskin."

          He kissed her back for all he was worth, so thankful she'd been thrust into his life. She was so warm and loving and filled his soul with light. He heard Bae snigger from the doorway and grinned. "Come on in, Bae," he called, causing his son to blush for being caught eavesdropping.

          Belle took their daughter up into her arms and ruffled Bae's hair. "I think we should do something fun today," she announced, taking her husband's hand in hers and leading him away from the spinning wheel. Her heart was bursting with happiness. They had love, a wonderful happy family and a future which spread before them, bright and limitless. Who could possibly ask for more? But then, Rumpelstiltskin had always been more than  _her dark servant_.

 

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So sorry for the shortness of the chapter, but that is it, dearies! I so hope everyone enjoyed reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it. You've all made it such a wonderful journey! Hugs and lots of love. Tomorrow, I will have another reposting beginning … my very first fic … ‘Why Did You Stay?’ It will be posted under the name ‘Why Did You Come Back?’ and I really hope y’all give it another chance.
> 
> CharlotteAshmore

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This fic holds a special place in my heart. I can’t wait to finish re-editing and re-posting. I hope y’all are enjoying it, too.
> 
> Huge buckets of love to Emilie Brown who makes my covers!!


End file.
